A Hug For Marguerite
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: Marguerite doubts herself as John's hunting partner after a stalk goes wrong. And she resents Finn being better in the jungle and usually accompanying Roxton to hunt. Moreover, she is vexed over seeing Finn try out some new dance moves on John. Will she demand that John and Finn stop hunting alone, and will it ruin her friendship with George and Finn? Will John accept her demands?


NOTE: This story is Rated as Mature and contains nudity, sexual references and activity and limited adult language. It is intended for reading only by adults who are not easily offended by such things. It is not especially graphic by modern standards and there is little or nothing here that might not be in a major novel. However, especially sensitive or conservative readers may be embarrassed by portions. It will appeal to those ladies who have asked me for more intimate content, and is similar in some regards to two other Fics that have been among my most popular. If you enjoyed, "A Tryst in the Treehouse" and, "Sultry", you'll probably like this tale. As ever, I thank New Line Cinema, the estate of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and other rights holders for permission to include their characters. The setting is after the Third Season, without regard for the cancelled Fourth Season. There are the same three couples in the Treehouse as in my other stories. Read my Profile for details on the couplings or read, "Challenger's Birthday" to see why George and Finn are together. M&R and N&V are also in committed relationships, and all will eventually marry. (See, "A Wedding at Avebury".)

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. REVIEWS ARE THE ONLY PAY A FIC AUTHOR RECEIVES.

**A Hug For Marguerite**

by

Gemini Explorer

The Plateau, December, 1923

Veronica Layton watched from the balcony outside her room in the Treehouse as an intense tangerine dawn hemorrhaged over the horizon. It was a splendid sight from that height and soon, the cacophony of jungle sounds would shift from the slithering, creeping, and occasional harsh calls of night predators and the screams of their victims to day sounds. Birds would be heard, other than the trilling of hunting owls, and monkeys would jabber. Dinosaurs would add their roars and screeches to the growls of jaguars and the screams of pumas.

Veronica loved it, this assemblage of noises from the jungle that she had called home for all of her 24 years. Born on this remote Plateau, she knew little of the bustle and smoke of cities. She longed to visit them with her fiancé, Ned Malone, but it was here that she would continue to call home. It was an elemental world, basic in its violence and in its largesse, the latter available only to those who knew its secrets and how to harvest its bounty. Veronica knew, and had taught her guests and surrogate family much of what she had learned by painful experience.

Now, she inhaled deeply, enjoying the relative cool of the emerging day before turning back into her room to wake Ned. That couple was the responsible one, she thought, the earliest to rise, and generally, the ones to begin making breakfast. She smiled a bit sarcastically as she thought of Marguerite Krux, usually the last to rise, and known for laziness. Oh, well: at least, she and her virtual sister, Nicole "Finn" Finnegan, had finally taught Marguerite to cook at a reasonable level.

Veronica shook Ned's shoulder. "Hey, Sleepy Head! Wake up. We have to get breakfast underway."

"Uhhh...," mumbled Ned. "There is no way in Creation that you are going to get my eyes open for another hour. Let me sleep."

A mischievous smile formed on Veronica's lips. "Well, Mr. Malone, if you don't open your eyes pretty fast, I am going to dress, and you won't get to see me naked. But if you don't care about that, no worries. I'll just dress and go down and start breakfast. Hmm.. What shall I wear today?"

She opened her dresser and took out pink panties and a matching bra, designs that were not yet available in stores. They were made here, by Veronica and Marguerite, on Vee's mother's sewing machine, with handmade lace from the British beauty known for her sloth...and for her consummate love of fine things. Marguerite was a superb designer of both jewelry and clothes, and had readily adapted to Finn's styles from the next century.

Much briefer and lacier than the usual women's' underwear of this day, the styles suited the girls very well. Veronica felt sexy, desirable, and adventurous whenever she dressed in these fashions of a time yet to come. Finn had said that the panties were something called "bikini", after an atom bomb explosion on some French-owned atoll in the Pacific in the 1940's. Originally a term for small bathing suits, the bikini mode was soon applied to lingerie, also. The lingerie covered about the same amount of skin, but the softer, more intimate nature of the undies made them more erotic.

"Let me see," Veronica muttered, loud enough for Ned to hear. "Shall I wear these normal bikinis, or would I feel better today in these string sided ones? Or, this thong? No, I don't have a thong in pink yet, and I want to wear pink today. I guess it'll be the regular ones. They're already pretty small, and they're the most comfortable. And my man is just going to sleep through my dressing, so he won't care what I wear today, anyway."

She sneaked a glance at the bed, and smiled wryly as she saw Ned's eyes open. "Why, Mr. Malone! Are you waking up, after all? Which panties should I wear today?"

"None, yet," said Ned. He stood, walked over to her, and pulled her back into bed. "They'd just get in the way."

"In the way of what?" Veronica asked coyly.

"I'll show you," promised Ned. And he did.

XXX

After the better part of an hour, a heavily breathing Veronica rolled out of bed for the second time that day and exclaimed, "Ned, why is it that I can't get you to wake up to help in the kitchen, but you have so much energy for sex?"

"Because I'm engaged to the most desirable woman on Earth, and I can't resist your physical charms, especially when they're displayed so openly. But I am hungry. Now that you've tricked me into waking up, I guess I'll help you cook."

Vee blushed at his description of her. "The most desirable woman on Earth, Neddy? That's laying it on pretty thick, especially for this early in the morning!" But she looked inordinately pleased, for she realized that this was precisely how Ned saw her. It had taken awhile, but she had grown to love his expressions of love and of simple admiration. Even adoration, when he had her stand unclothed, hands on her head, turning slowly as he ran his eyes over every square inch of her skin.

Initially, she had felt foolish and a little exploited or trivialized by this. But she had soon come to like it, having a rather healthy dose of female vanity. And she knew that Ned's adoration of her physical charms was only one facet of his devotion to her.

He stood by her now, running his hands over her back, waist, and wonderfully curved butt, toying with her nipples before bending down and taking the right one in his mouth.

"Ned," she gasped. "We really do have to go down and get the day underway. If we wait on the Roxtons and the Challengers, nothing will get done for another hour or more."

He kissed her and whispered into her ear, "Guess what I'd like to get done for the next hour?" His lips wandered down her neck as his hands caressed her blonde hair, sending quivers of delight and anticipation down her spine.

"We just did that," she protested. Still, his hands and his lips were so persistent that she wavered in her determination.

The next thing she knew, she was kneeling in front of Ned, applying herself to his pleasure, as he murmured praise for her efforts. Why do I let myself get talked into this, she wondered. I know that I should be in the kitchen...Then, his hands played artfully with her ears, and she moaned softly and addressed herself to her task, which elicited a sharp intake of breath from Ned.

It was another hour before a knock came on the door, startling the couple and disturbing a lingering, intimate kiss with which they were concluding their exertions.

"What?!" yelled an irritated Malone. He continued to run his hands over his partner's bottom as she lay atop him.

"Is everything all right in there?" A soprano British voice. John Roxton's wench, thought Ned. What was she doing up, already?

"We're fine, Marguerite," called Veronica, flushing pink all over her body as she realized that Marguerite had probably guessed what she was doing. And she was embarrassed at the hour. It must be after eight!

"Well, you weren't in the kitchen, and I was worried," said the voice on the other side of the door.

"You can always cook something yourself, Marguerite," pointed out Malone. "We're sort of busy right now."

"Doing what? It's after eight."

Ned thought he heard a muffled laugh. "I'm teaching Veronica creative writing. I'm showing her how to use her fingers by running mine all over her. Go away. Feed John. Are the Challengers up yet?"

"No, but they're about to be. I'll go interfere in their lives while you and Vee get dressed and get downstairs. I'm hungry. There are things that I have to do today."

"There are things that I have to do today, too," muttered Malone. "And you, my beauty, are the main one." He kissed Veronica below her left ear, toying with her hair until she purred in pleasure.

She found her voice. "Go away, Marguerite. I'll calm Neddy down and slake his lust. We'll be there in a few minutes. Well, in a relative few. He's pretty randy this morning." She blushed as she realized what she had just said.

"Oh, very well," groused Marguerite. "But if you aren't down there soon, I'm cooking. You've been given fair warning." And she flounced off.

"That does sound ominous," admitted Ned. "Maybe we had better get up. If I have the superhuman strength of character to tear myself away from your marvelous body..." He kissed her below the ear again, and she shivered.

"Ned, quit. We do need to get up."

"Promise me some afternoon delight first," he commanded. "I want more of this. You've made me an insatiable man, Veronica."

She laughed. "Oh, very well, Ned. We'll find some way to sneak off by ourselves and do this again later today. Now, let me go. I have to clean up and get dressed."

"Why?" he wondered. "With a body like yours, it seems a pity to put clothes over it."

Veronica giggled. "Ned, quit. Let go. And I have to get dressed so that you can undress me later. It'll give you something to look forward to."

"Well, if you put it that way..." Ned lifted her to her feet and gave her a kiss as he staggered over to the wash basin where he found a cloth and began to wipe himself down after his exertions of the past two hours.

Vee walked over by him, their bodies touching as she began brushing her hair in the mirror. "Honey," she ventured. "I think we set a record today. Kruxlahoo was up before we were."

He laughed and patted her butt. "Yeah. We'll manage to achieve a superior level of indolence yet. But she just lies abed when she gets up late. We at least found something to do."

"You can say that again, Buster," she teased. "If we'd found much more of that to do, I'd be sore inside for a week."

They embraced and kissed some more until Veronica disengaged and began brushing her hair again as Ned stepped back to watch.

She turned her head. "What? I'm just brushing my hair."

"Yeah," he said, "but that's one of the finest sights on this planet, and it's all mine!" The look on his face melted her heart and she glowed.

"Ned Malone, I love you." she said. "I'm just surprised that it took me so long to realize that and admit it, even to myself. Maybe, especially, to myself."

"Well, you have, and that's what counts," he replied. "Here, put these on while I watch. Then, we'd better get down there before Marguerite burns up the kitchen."

XXX

When Ned and Vee reached the kitchen, they found Lord John Roxton and his woman already there. She had brewed coffee, which she swore was as essential to life as water. And there was whole wheat toast, with butter and honey and some blackberry preserves, which they made, themselves. They paid professional honey gatherers among the Zanga for the honey. It was far safer than trying to raid a beehive on their own.

"Where is the rest?" wondered Veronica. "Are any eggs or meat cooked yet?"

"Well," said Marguerite sweetly, "I was waiting on you to cook, Vee. Or, Finn, if she was fool enough to get here first. You can't expect me to cook with you ladies being so much better at it, surely? Why, Ned might lose his strength and have to let you get some sleep, if he relied on my cooking." She raised her eyebrows in wry challenge, knowing that Veronica would be too embarrassed to discuss just what Ned needed his strength for at night...

Ned was less shy. "John, did you just let her sit here and goof off until we arrived? Marguerite, just when I think you've become responsible, you turn out to be lazy again. You even threatened to cook, yourself." He gave her a dirty look, still unhappy about her interrupting his session with his lady.

"I thought of cooking, myself," declared Marguerite. "But I decided that it would be inhumane of me to do that to us. Better to make coffee and toast, which I can easily manage, and talk to His Lordship here until you arrived."

Roxton turned his head away, but seemed to be laughing silently. Veronica rolled her eyes in exasperation, took Ned's hand, and pulled him after her into the kitchen.

Soon, the smell of cooking eggs and tapir ham wafted throughout the Treehouse, and Ned brought out plates and silverware, and refilled their coffee cups.

Within minutes, Finn and George Challenger had joined the others. Finn kissed her man, sat him down, and went to get him coffee. She was fussy about anyone else serving him, and was sometimes teased for her attentions to her beloved Genius.

"Hi, Vee," said Finn. "Need help?"

Veronica brightened. "Thanks, Finnykins. Yes, take this platter of eggs and ham out to the table as soon as you fill George's cup. We'll brew more coffee then, seeing as how Kruxlahoo here and John drank the rest of that pot."

"Hey!" protested the brunette Briton. "I made that pot, myself!"

"And a mighty effort on your part, I'm sure that it was," acknowledged Ned.

Finally, droll banter aside, they were all seated, and breakfast got underway. Ned raised the issue of what everyone was doing that day.

"I should hunt," reflected Roxton. "We only have enough meat for another day or two. Finn, do you want to join me?"

Finn was his usual hunting companion, and the other resident gun enthusiast. It had been one of the greatest days of her life when she had been able to exchange her puny crossbow for firearms, and she loved hearing Roxton's tales of derring-do in the African bush. She longed to go on safari, herself. (Note: She eventually managed: see, "On Safari" and the other safari-based fics here. One, "At the Edge of the Light", is not Rated as Mature.)

"Can't, Johnny," she replied. Only Finn ever called Lord John Roxton,V.C., the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury, "Johnny"...

"The Genius and I have some heavy lab work today," she explained. "We have to watch one experiment and record what color the stuff in the test tubes is every 14 minutes. And we have some other things going on. And I have to make his lunch and get it to the lab for him. And relieve him when he has to use the restroom, stuff like that. Of course, that's a two-way street: I go more often than he does. But one of us always has to be there, to keep an eye on things. Mostly, we'll both be there all day, together. I like to feel that I'm helping George with his brilliant inventions."

"You are helping," assured her man, accepting the slice of toast that she had buttered for him. "I sometimes wonder how I got by until you came along. You're the best lab assistant that I've ever had." He placed his big hand over hers and squeezed, to her delight. Her face broke out in one of her radiant grins and she leaned over and kissed her lover and hero.

Marguerite Krux rolled her eyes dramatically, to express her reaction to this "mush". She sometimes teased Finn for her attentions to her famous scientist, but had largely given that up. She had even been caught buttering an occasional slice of bread for Roxton if she thought that no one was paying attention. Still, she liked to needle the Challengers for their evident devotion. One was pretty much the admiration society for the other, and it was easy to razz them over that. Challenger even kept a wooden pedestal in their room. He set his young blonde companion on it when she did anything that especially pleased him, or when she doubted herself. It embarrassed Finn, but she glowed with pleasure, nonetheless. And if there was anything that she thought her champion and mentor needed, Finnykins was right there, eager to deliver. Finn was fond of declaring that the two had the love of the centuries, the affair of all time. Marguerite rather thought that she and John held that title, but had given up discussing it. When the subject had last arisen, she had asked: Why argue with a blonde child who has her mind made up?

Veronica, just two years older than Finn and also blonde, had pointed out that Finn wasn't really a "child", and that she was warmly romantic in her assertion about her love for Challenger.

So, the issue had largely subsided. But it was rather touching to watch the Challengers interact. Marguerite had once been jealous of their union, but now truly felt that she had as strong a relationship with her own man.

She nudged John in the ribs and said, "Why don't you let me come? I can shoot well enough, and even keep quiet if I absolutely must. And it'll take both of us to carry much meat. We can pack a picnic lunch and have that while we wait for something tasty to wander along into our rifle sights."

"Splendid idea, Marguerite. I was just about to suggest that," her man agreed.

Finn looked at Marguerite. "Pack a couple of extra dill pickles," she advised. "Johnny steals mine half the time unless I take spares."

"I don't steal them," protested Roxton. "I just ask if you're going to eat it. If not..."

"Same difference," laughed Finn. "You know damned well that I can't resist that cute puppy dog look that you give me then."

"Right," said Marguerite. "Take spare pickles. Got it. And we still have some pheasant left in the refrigerator, and some bread and cheese. Wine, John?"

He thought. "Better not. I want a bottle of that hock (British term for German wines from the Rhine, especially from Hochheim), but we'd better save it for a special occasion. We don't have a lot of wine left. And we don't want to drink much while we're handling guns. Take tea, instead. We'll make do with that. Got more tea left than wine, and it grows here." Veronica's parents had discovered tea planted years before, and the harvest was rather like that from the better gardens on Ceylon, quite good, really.

Soon, they had cleaned up the breakfast things, and the Roxtons readied their equipment for the hunt.

Marguerite and the other women packed the picnic basket as John selected guns and assorted other gear.

He settled on Marguerite's .303, for which they had somewhat more softnosed hunting ammunition than for her .275 Rigby, and chose his own .318 Westley Richards instead of his heavier .416 Rigby. The cartridges were lighter and he could carry more, and he simply had more ammunition for the .318. He also had a .275, selected to let him, Marguerite, and Challenger use a common cartridge in their light rifles, but he was so fond of his .318 that he had taken it, too. Not that ammo was available for it in South America, as with the .416 and the .450 heavy rifles.

Nothing in South America other than the dinosaurs on this weird Plateau required that much power. Such rifles were normally reserved for elephant, buffalo, rhino, and the like in Africa, and for tiger, wild bison, elephant, and similar Indian game. The .275 Rigby was basically just the 7X57mm Mauser load, with John Rigby's patented bullets, so they could use Brazilian military ammo if needed. And they had captured a considerable store of it after defeating the slavers led by Avery Burton. (See, "A Night in the Lost World.") It was a light caliber for really large animals, but the rifles were easier to carry than the .416 or .450. There was good reason why most hunters in Africa or India employed native gun bearers to carry their heavy rifles, which were heavy in both caliber and weight! Roxton decided to gamble that they would not be pursued by large theropod dinosaurs. The .303 and the .318 were entirely ample for the smaller raptors and such mammals as jaguars or pumas. And certainly enough for deer or tapir or pigs..

Marguerite had decided to wear a Smith & Wesson .38 like Finn's, except that her own had a rounded butt and a four-inch (10CM) barrel in lieu of the more squared butt and five-inch barrel of Finn's. Both of these revolvers had been taken from the slavers. In fact, they were spare guns kept in a storage room, and were brand new when discovered. Finn had been almost beside herself with delight as she selected hers! She insisted that her friend carry the other, it being more powerful and stronger than the break-top design gun that she originally wore to the Plateau.

Marguerite had grudgingly consented to wearing the newer style occasionally, and found herself liking it more all the time. But she still liked her old one, which had a concealed hammer that wouldn't snag if she had to fire the gun from within a muff or a coat pocket or purse. She never carried a purse here, and a coat was a rare garment in this tropical climate. And her newer gun had an exposed hammer that could be easily cocked for more precise shooting at longer ranges.

Roxton chose his Colt .45 automatic instead of his ivory-butted Webley revolvers. Its metal-jacketed bullets at higher velocity would penetrate better than the lead Webley bullets, and if he had to shoot a deer or a raptor, that could be important. He was sure that a .45 bullet in just the right place would also kill a jaguar, but hoped never to have to find out first hand. He feared the big spotted cats and the related puma almost as much as he did the dinosaurs. The Zanga lost several warriors each year to big cats.

He buckled on his gun belt, adjusting the pistol holster and the sheath for his stag antler handled-Bowie knife for comfort. By then, Marguerite and the other ladies were there with the picnic basket. They also took an extra canteen of water each, and one binocular.

Marguerite was wearing a sky blue blouse and a khaki skirt that ended at her knees. It was one that they had made, and was cooler than her longer skirts.

He pulled her to him and held her by the waist before she donned her gun belt, liking the way that she felt under his hands. He leaned over and kissed her and gently caressed her hair.

"What was that for?" she asked, a trifle embarrassed at the grins on Veronica's and Finn's faces. But she was blushing with pleasure as much as from embarrassment.

"That, my lady, was for you. What else?" teased Roxton.

And so, they were soon going down in the elevator, Roxton making a joke about her going down with him.

"Not quite accurate, John," she protested. "What you have in mind is me going down ON you, not WITH you. I know you, my lad!" She blushed, but grinned wickedly.

"You seem to understand perfectly what I have in mind," he admitted.

She gave him a wry look as they stepped out of the elevator. "Maybe later, if you're a good boy," she offered.

They were soon beyond the clearing that provided a killing ground around the Treehouse, as well as a means of identifying anyone approaching their aerial home.

As they entered the jungle, Marguerite looked back and saw George and Finn waving goodbye. Finn blew them a kiss, and Marguerite smiled, knowing the impish grin that would be on her "sister's" face at such a moment. Challenger waved his hat in a parting salute.

"Wave, John," she admonished Roxton, doing so, herself. He turned and followed suit, mimicking George's "hat trick", as he drolly called it. Marguerite playfully elbowed him in the ribs and snorted.

Finn snuggled into Challenger's arms and said, "I sure hope they'll be all right. I'd feel better if we could go with them. There are animals in that jungle even scarier than Marguerite when she's in a bad mood!"

Challenger chuckled. "Quite so, Darling." He leaned down and kissed Finn's forehead. "But they've been getting by rather well on their own, for the most part."

"Oh, sure," muttered his woman. "You mean, like that time in Xochilenque, when we had to rescue them from that cell when they were about to be put into the zoo? Not that lots of women wouldn't have come to see Johnny there." (See, "The Crystal Skull".)

"Ah, well," replied the tall scientist, "I expect that their loss was Marguerite's gain. It was soon after that that she finally accepted John's marriage proposal. I think that gladiatorial fight in the arena against Xu'ac made her aware of his mortal nature, and that she had better speak for him while she could. She very nearly lost him on that trip."

"I'm never going to lose you, Genius," she promised. "I spent almost all of my long, short life finding you. Please keep me: I never want to have to be that alone again." She looked earnestly into his face.

"Not to worry," he teased, "if I should ever lose you, I have a really good compass. I'd find you again."

"It isn't funny, George," she remonstrated. "You've become most of my world. I want to bear your children, and make sure that they have the best care that they can get. Like you, they'll probably loom large in the human story of our planet. Maybe they'll go down in history, too, and I want to be the mother they'll need to achieve all that they can. They'll be your kids, blessed with a father whose intellect is one of the highest ever recorded." She looked seriously into his face and he hugged her gently and kissed her lips.

"I shall try always to be worthy of your high expectations, Nicole. You are a remarkable woman, yourself. You survived against unspeakable odds, and came into my life at a time when I would never have guessed what a woman could come to mean to me. Let's go in and set up the lab for today's work. If our major experiment is successful, I think we may be on the verge of a medical miracle. A wonder drug! Just think what that could mean!"

She took his hand and they went in, after a final wave to the Roxtons. "Want a cup of tea, Genius? Maybe hot chocolate? I was going to make some."

"In fact, yes, Finn. I would like that. You have the uncanny knack of divining just what I want, even before I've thought of it, myself!"

She shrugged. "That's my job. I'm your woman. Your chief admirer, your nurturer, and the best lay that you'll see in this lifetime!" She grinned up at him.

He smiled back. "Well, if I'm to see any other lifetimes, make sure to get yourself reincarnated when I do. I want the same woman then, too."

They walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen, where he talked with Ned as the women made cocoa, which Veronica said was a good idea, at that. "It'll give Ned the energy he needs to help me clean house," she observed.

"I should have known that this came with a catch," grumbled Malone.

Veronica winked at him. "It has its compensations, Mr. Malone. Like when we clean our own room, we'll lock the door and spend a lot of time alone in there, getting it really clean. Unless you can think of anything that you'd rather do while George and Finn are creating wonders in the lab, and Marguerite and John are away for most of the day."

"Don't do anything that I wouldn't," razzed Finn.

"That leaves us a pretty wide field, Finny, starting with your being an exhibitionist. I couldn't believe it when you had me make you a little ocelot loincloth like that one I had to wear in Xochilenque!" Veronica blushed as she recalled how exposed she had felt when led through the streets of the Tecamaya city in that miniscule outfit. Not that Ned Malone had minded after he and Finn had rescued her. They had gone quite a few blocks from the stadium where she'd been imprisoned before Ned remembered to offer his coat to cover her near nakedness.

What bothered Veronica about this was that she had not really minded much the way that he had looked at her, like a lovely jungle goddess. He had proposed that very night and she had found herself accepting, wondering why either of them had waited for so long to suggest that they become one. Now, she no longer felt guilty about wanting to preen where he could see her. Just a little self conscious...

Woman, thy name is Vanity, she reflected. Or, Veronica! Not that Finn and Marguerite are any less vain, and Finny really does get off on being admired by the guys...Marguerite's right about that.

Challenger cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, especially inasmuch as he knew full well that Finn indeed liked being assessed by men. It fed her self confidence, which had been lacking in some areas when they'd first met. Now, she knew that she had other admirable qualities that had won her Challenger's respect and that of all her friends. But she still enjoyed looking to see which men stared most at her when the women danced. She was fiercely loyal to him, but liked knowing that she drew the male eye. He decided to change the subject. It was time to get to work, anyway.

"Let's put some biscuits, er, cookies, on a silver tray and take them and our cocoa down to the lab and get to work, Darling. You and Veronica can tease each other about those little loincloths another time. Not that both of you don't look spectacular in them, to be sure."

Finn nodded, and helped Vee to prepare two trays with the goodies described. She set two glasses and a pitcher of ice water on each tray, too.

Veronica took one tray into the living room, where she and Ned would begin dusting and sweeping. Finn followed Challenger down to the lab with the other, chatting happily about a fishing trip that she wanted them to take after the present round of experiments was finished.

The Malones took their tray out onto the veranda, and looked at the luxuriant jungle below. Ned brought out a binocular that Challenger kept on a table inside the living room, to enable them to identify distant objects easily. He watched the Roxtons until they were out of sight on the path that led to the river, and then studied a blue hyacinth macaw in a tree just across from the Treehouse. He passed Veronica the binocular and pointed out the beautiful bird.

"Honey, even that bird isn't as pretty as you are, and I mean that."

She colored slightly, then thought of something as she passed Ned a cookie.

"Neddy, I'll make you a deal. First, we clean this room. Then, you dust and sweep the library, while I go up and change into that ridiculous little loincloth and that feather headdress that you say that I look good in. Then, you can come up and have me do whatever you want, for as long as you want, at least until lunchtime. Finn and I have to cook then. But I'll make this a day that you won't soon forget, Famous Reporter!" And she gave Ned a look that caused his heart to race as if he had just run a mile. Which wasn't nearly as much fun as what Veronica was suggesting...

"The ocelot loincloth and that little bunch of blue and green feathers in the gold band on your head, huh?"

"Umm, hmm," she nodded, knowing that she was blushing like a virgin on her wedding night.

"You've hired yourself a library cleaner, lady," he told her. And they leaned across the small table and rubbed noses.

XXX

John and Marguerite were now out of sight of the Treehouse, and she felt the heightened sense of awareness that always came to her in the jungle. Lose that edge, she knew, and Death waited nearby, clad in the dark colors of an anaconda or of a vivid green tree viper, or the brown, black and buff tones of a Bushmaster, flicking its tail just before striking from among the leaves at the base of a tree. Roxton had once actually been struck in the heel of his boot by one of these awful pit vipers. It was fortunate that he had lifted his leg just as the snake struck, or the fangs and their terrible contents would have entered his calf.

She shuddered at that memory, and scanned the forest floor, as well as low lying tree limbs that might harbor a boa constrictor or an arboreal viper, of which there were several species. Challenger said that two were previously unknown to science, but were especially virulent.

She also knew where to look for dinosaurs lurking in the foliage and knew the general natures of other predators on this Plateau.

Some were human, and they were potentially the most dangerous beasts of all.

But the day was fine, and she and Roxton knew the hazards. Neither swam, except in protected places where the river bottom was clear enough to reveal any crocodiles or caimans looking for a meal. And if there were dangerous cats, people, and reptiles, at least, they lacked the risk of traffic in Britain. Nor were they likely to be in a train wreck on this plateau!

"Thank God for small favors," she mumbled. "And thank Him more for even bigger ones!"

"Eh?" asked her mate, who had been only half listening.

She repeated what she'd said, telling him why the thought had come to mind.

"Well, I haven't seen any train wrecks here, or any people as dangerous at a distance as the Germans were during the War," Roxton pointed out.

"You don't think I'm dangerous?" she purred, doing something with her eyes that started Roxton's heart pumping. She stood very near him, almost touching, and there was electricity coming off of her like that from a transformer that was nervous in a thunderstorm.

"I said, 'at a distance', Marguerite. You're more of a close range danger. Except that the hold that you've got on my heart extends worldwide, I'm sure. You might be at your most dangerous if you were far away, and I was concentrating on how much I missed you, instead of looking out for other threats."

She colored, and then recovered. "Lord Roxton, are you saying that I have some intimate effect on your passions?"

"Marguerite, you ARE my intimate passions."

"Funny," she retorted. "I'd have sworn that your guns were, or your little blonde hunting partner. What do you and Finny find to talk about on your hunts, anyway? Apart from your mutual interest in firearms, knives, history, and wild animals? You two bore me stiff with that line of chatter."

"It isn't 'chatter', Marguerite. We have learned discussions. And Finn is becoming quite articulate, now that she can read, and listens to the rest of us. Her English vocabulary is now excellent, and she sounds more refined than when we first met her in New Amazonia. Mind you, she still uses terms from her own time, and some of those are rather amusing, if one can fathom what she means."

"Get her mad enough, and you'll find that she still speaks Portuguese really fluently, too," muttered Marguerite. "And she has some very colorful terms in that tongue, too!" Her face darkened with recollection of a couple of quarrels that she and Miss Finnegan had had, one being especially nasty after Marguerite had insulted Challenger in Finn's presence.

"Finny is sort of George's attack bitch. Don't ever say anything too bad about either, if the other can hear. I learned about that the hard way!" She lowered her eyes in sullen resentment.

"I never do," replied her man. "George and Finn are my best friends in this world, other than you, and you have a sort of special significance. And, if you hadn't gotten half drunk when you were in a bad mood and said what you did about George, Finny wouldn't have said what she did. Not that I understood much of it. But I could tell that she was mad! I'm sure that you, with your gift for languages, understood every subtle aspect of it." He looked inquiringly at his mate.

She blushed, angry at herself for having said what she had that night, Challenger really being one of her best friends, and a man whom she admired enormously. He was a sort of father figure and confidant to her. She had really been out of line, and any failing on her part angered Marguerite.

She glanced sharply up at Roxton. "John, I was out of line. I shouldn't have drunk that much and I was in a bad mood. I did apologize, even if Finny gave me the cold shoulder for the rest of that week. Thank God, George was more gracious. Just said that he realized that it was the liquor talking when I was depressed.

"He really is a remarkable man, and as much an icon as Finn thinks he is. We're really fortunate to know him. Them. I was just jealous of their closeness. We have that now, so I probably won't be running my mouth resentfully any more. Especially not after they saved our hides in Xochilenque! Which reminds me: I need to think where to sell that treasure for the most money. There are some pieces in our share that I want to keep, though. The craftsmanship on some of those horrid Aztec and Maya godlings is breathtaking!"

"Godlings?"

She shrugged. "Well, I don't want to seem blasphemous, John. They were heathens, you know. But we're getting off of the subject. What do you and Finnykins find to talk about?"

"Fishing, sometimes. We like that, as well as hunting, and nature study. And I try to educate her about the world, seeing as she'd had a limited view of it in New Amazonia. She's like a sponge, Marguerite, eager to soak up any knowledge that she can. She's especially curious about Britain, where she'll live with George, if we ever get off of this accursed Plateau. She's afraid that she'll do something to embarrass him. But a lot of it is just wanting to know what to expect in her life, as she'll live it in our time."

"Fishing," said Marguerite. "I should have known. But she talks about all of that when I'm with you, too. So, what does she discuss when I'm not there? And what did she put in that letter that she gave to George in Xochilenque? I know that he showed it to you!"

"He did, in confidence. Marguerite, all that I'll say is that it was a surprisingly articulate account of her love for him, and for all of us, for taking her in and expanding her life. She wanted him to know that if she died that day, we had meant the world to her. As for what she said about him personally, I think you can guess. But that letter was almost as literate as anything that Ned could have written, wordsmith that he is. George was very touched by it. Said that he'll keep it with him until the day that he dies."

"Well, she didn't die, and thanks to her and George, neither did we." Marguerite squeezed Roxton's hand. "How far do you want to go before we stop for lunch? There's a nice place just down the river from the pool where we girls swim."

Roxton thought. "Yes, I know the place, I think. We can't hunt there too often. or the game may get wise to us. But we need meat rather badly, and I don't fancy humping this picnic basket all over the whole damned jungle, so let's do that. It is a rather pretty place, and there's a crossing near that trail that I know is used by deer and wild pigs."

"And it's romantic," Marguerite added. "There's something to be said for that."

Roxton laughed. "There is a lot to be said for that, at least when you're with me. Come on, Marguerite. We'll go there and have our lunch in those lovely surroundings and then plan the hunt. I'll quit worrying about that until then. First things first, and today, our picnic comes first. Or, to rephrase that, WE come first."

Marguerite smiled. "Just keep thinking that way, Roxton. I like the sound of 'we'. It's right up there with 'us' in my book. It's good not to have to be just 'me' after all those years of not trusting anyone but myself. I know how Finn feels about George, because it isn't too far from how I feel about you."

Roxton shook his head, smiling. "I'm hardly an icon of science, or of anything else. All I can do is to tell you that I love you. But I can say that very sincerely, and I can offer you a title, Lady Roxton. And we'll eat well at Avebury. That's a better deal than many women get."

She looked soberly at him, stopping him on the trail for a moment. "John, it's a better deal than any other woman on Earth has ever gotten, especially a fallen woman like me. You are every bit as much a giant to me as George is to science and to Finnykins. Besides, I have jewels now, and more gold than I can carry at once. I have financial security, and the slaking of my lusts in that department. All that I could lack is you, and what you symbolize for me. To some, I'm a tramp and a con artist, not without some justification, I admit. To you, I'm worth saving and loving. If there was ever a fairytale prince, you're him, for me. So, how does it feel to go from being an Earl to being a Prince?"

"Pretty good, if it's your prince that I am," he said, and set the basket down amid some ferns and drew her into his arms.

After holding one another for a time and whispering sweet somethings to each other, the couple resumed their journey.

In another half an hour, they found the place that Marguerite had in mind. It was a beautiful glade, protected by trees, so that anyone would have to practically stumble over them before seeing them. And the trees would mask their scent from tall predators looking for a meal. _Tyrannosaurus rex_ seldom came into the upper level forests, preferring to scout the savannah below and the coast of the Inland Sea for its meals. But Allosaurs, one species of which lacked the nasal fins of the basic type, did hunt here, often. and the smaller raptors were a known danger, as well as big cats and a variety of serpents and crocodilians. There was no place on the Plateau that was totally safe, as was true in any tropical jungle.

But this was as good and as safe and pretty a place as any, and it was a jewel in the jungle, as Marguerite joked.

"You're the jewel in my jungle, a gem beyond price," Roxton replied. running hands over her face and along her neck. He ended by slapping her butt lightly.

"Why do men have such a compulsion to play with my butt?" she demanded. "You're as naughty as the others whom I've known. What is it about that part of the female anatomy that attracts male hands so much?"

Roxton shrugged. "We have a mirror in our room. Take a good luck at yourself some time. I know that you do, rather often. Just study that splendidly shaped posterior, and honestly ask yourself how I could reasonably avoid being fascinated by it. But I pay due attention to other parts of your anatomy, too, do I not?" He grinned smugly.

"That you do," she conceded. "When your hands aren't moving on me, your eyes are."

"Quit complaining, Marguerite. Or, pretending to... You know that you love it. And you have the best nude figure of any woman in that Treehouse and any of the three of you would turn men's heads anywhere in the world."

"What do you mean by my 'nude figure'? Isn't my figure still the best when I'm dressed? Actually, it isn't, clothes or not. Vee is easily the best looking, the most nubile of us girls. But I like to think that I'm not too awfully far behind. If I had bigger boobs, I could give her a run for her money. If I dyed my hair blonde…"

"Marguerite, I like your hair as it is. I'm one of those men who prefer brunettes. They seem to have more depth. As for your breasts, they're wonderfully shaped. They're no bigger than Finn's, although they look bigger when you're both dressed. But something about your clothes or bra makes them seem bigger with your clothes on. That's why I made that 'nude' comment."

Marguerite nodded, thoughtfully. "I think her mostly wearing black, and the way that her tops fit, makes Finny seem smaller than she is there. I've seen her with her clothes off more than you have, and she is just about my size, boob-wise. Vee is definitely larger, as you doubtless recall, from seeing her in Xochilenque and elsewhere, sans clothing. But be honest, John: we both know that most men like bigger ones than I have."

"Not all men," he told her, lightly caressing her breasts through the smooth material of her blouse. He felt the nipples harden through her thin bra. "I like yours. And those smaller ones are more pert. They don't droop as much as larger ones do, with time. And if you insist on wearing those slip dresses that Finn designed for when we have parties at the Treehouse, your boobs don't wobble around as much as Veronica's do. Ned makes her go braless then, and she likes it. It is sort of spectacular, seeing that effect. But you and Finny intrigue my eyes more, with the way that your equipment twitches more than rolls under those thin satin-like dresses. And you move well, taking advantage of all that you've got. Suggesting, without blatantly offering, if that's what Vee does. I think some of her style then isn't deliberately coquettish so much as her just unconsciously moving that way. She's very feminine, especially now that she's with Ned, and very physical, of course. But my eyes and hands always come to you. And my heart never leaves you. Marguerite, I truly love you and want you above any other woman on Earth. I don't have to lie about it, to keep you happy. I've never spoken more sincere words. I love you, Darling, medium boobs, dark hair, and all. Not to mention your intellect and spirit. Within reason on the 'spirit', of course." He chuckled.

"Now that your temper is held within check most of the time, you're the ultimate woman for me. I even love your sarcastic humor. Our friends seem to like it, too." He nuzzled her nose with his.

She held his waist, above the gun belt. "If you're trying for that blow job that you mentioned in the elevator, John, keep going. As Ned would say, you're batting a thousand. I love hearing these things, and I almost believe them."

She leaned into him, feeling his arms close around her as he kissed her below the left ear. She shivered and pressed closer to him.

"Believe them entirely, Marguerite. They're as true as it is that water is wet. For me, you are the sunshine after a dark night. You are the bright flowers that beautify my path in life, the source of most of my joy. I may care even more for you than I do for hunting." He chuckled again, the sound of his laughter music in her ears, and song in her bosom.

"Don't forget fishing," she chided. "How can I compete with that?

"And admit it, John: your eyes do follow the jiggle in Vee's boobs quite a bit, even when she's dressed in her usual jungle harlot costume. And I've seen you looking at Finny when she walks around in those little shorts, let alone when she moves her bottom on the dance floor, dressed like a harem slave, wriggling in those techniques that I taught her."

Roxton shrugged. "Marguerite, I look at them and their best features, including their eyes. I'm male; I'm human. I'm going to look at anything that pretty and that friendly. If you pay attention, George and Ned also admire you. I've seen them doing it, especially when you do those dances. I've even gotten rather jealous at times. But you are mine, and the other girls are theirs. We fellows like to admire the goods, but we shop only at our own stores. If that makes sense… On the whole, there's remarkably little jealousy in that Treehouse. All of us love our partners, and for us, no other women are really within our ambitions. Look at how Ned regards Veronica, and how George even built a pedestal for Finn! The way they look at one another, and so often touch, even in casually passing one another! It's so tender that it makes me sentimental, just remembering it.

"When Finny says that she and George have the love of the centuries, I think she believes that. And they may! I've never seen any other couple worship one another more, including us. And how can you doubt how Ned and Vee feel about each other? That couple finally went off the deep end of the dock when they fell for each other, too. Did they not?"

She ran her hands up and down Roxton's spine, leaning into him, liking the feel of his heart beating against her. He felt so strong, so hard, and so masculine!

"He must love Veronica. She gets him up early most mornings to help her in the kitchen. " She snickered, "Greater love hath no man for a woman. He even helps her clean house. Ned has it bad for that blonde, all right. Are we that close?"

"Probably. But I'm safe: you'll never get me up early to help you cook. Fortunately for you, I'm happy to lie in bed with you and watch you sleep, if I wake first."

She blushed. "I must look ghastly then! Maybe you really do love me as much as you say." She giggled, something that she did less than the blondes, but which was delightful to hear when she did.

"You can't look too bad," he told her. "I usually wake you by showing my passion for you. It's a very genuine love, as well as the raw lust that you inspire in me even when you're just standing still, or picking a flower. Or, playing with diamonds. That's so 'you'!"

"Fine, as long as you don't wake me too often by tickling me! That isn't funny, John. Well, not always. Do you really like watching me play with diamonds? Or, just standing there? I mean, with my clothes on?" She reddened, knowing that he'd prefer her naked. He was probably going to make some rude, predictable, very male comment about that...

"Marguerite, I do love you. I clean your guns, don't I?"

She laughed openly. "Well, that does prove your devotion," she cried. "Knowing you, that must be the ultimate intimate act for a woman!" She shrieked with laughter, stepping back and hugging herself.

"If you want to eat before I make a pass at you, Madam, you'd better stop laughing like that. You're incredibly sexy then, even more than when you dance. Maybe. What about it? Food first, or sex? I could go for either."

She managed to gasp between laughs. "Oh, food! It may spoil in this heat if we don't eat soon. We have all afternoon for sex. And you'll probably want every moment of it. Remember though: we have to hunt. Not that you'll likely forget that. Your other passion."

"In that case," he said, "let's eat. It'll fuel my strength for other things."

"John? When we get home, will you wash my hair? We can sit out on the veranda of the Treehouse while you dry it. I do so like that..."

"Possibly," he offered. "Let's see what you can think of to earn that, after we eat, and before we hunt."

"Men!" she exclaimed. "Ever one thing on their minds!"

"Marguerite? I do like washing your hair and drying it, as you sit between my legs or kneel in front. It's sort of soothing, and therapeutic. And I know how you love it. It brings us closer together."

She softened and took his hand. "Keep talking that way, John Roxton, and I'll believe that you love me as much as you say. Find a place to sit where I can sit beside you, and I'll get this basket unpacked. Spare pickles and all."

xxx

Two hours later, lunch over (spare pickles and all!), Marguerite lay across Roxton's lap, dressed only in her blouse, bra, and panties. She felt his hand caress her legs, and she purred, opening them so that his hand could rove where it would. And did...with exciting and soothing results for her.

"Poor Finny," she smirked. "Only I get these benefits when we hunt alone. That was wonderful, John. We must do this again some time. Soon, and often..."

"Well," he commented. "If you're going to beg for it like that, I suppose that I can find the time." He smiled wickedly at her, and she knew that he was as pleased as she at the way that they had passed the hour after eating.

Marguerite stuck out her tongue at her man before laughing softly. "Oh, John! If only we had known sooner that we were so well suited for one another! Play with my legs some more, then we had better go hunt. We do need the meat. What do you want to shoot?"

"Ideally? An Angus beef animal. Or, any of several species of African antelope. We'll hunt those someday, too, if we ever escape the Plateau. Realistically, I hope for a couple of plump agouti or a brocket deer. There's A good chance at either."

"Which bleeds more and is more likely to get me all messy?" Typical Marguerite, even if she was teasing now.

"About the same, if the size is similar. Those little deer usually run a bit larger. Either will provide as much meat as the two of us want to carry back. I'll get Ned or George to join me tomorrow, and make another kill or two. Now that George created that ingenious refrigerator, we can store enough meat for several days to a week. Ned said that he'll take his shotgun after birds this afternoon, too. We could use a couple or three of those colorful pheasants...maybe an ocellated turkey, if he gets lucky."

They heard shuffling in the brush down the mountain, and a rumbling growl drifted up from the jungle there. A carnosaur and it sounded like a large one. Maybe an _Allosaurus…_

"Better get your skirt, boots and gun on, fast," whispered Roxton. "That thing may have smelled the remains of our lunch. We'd better move on, quick!"

"When you're right, you're right," Marguerite muttered, reaching for her boots.

They went to a game path that he knew, doubling back several times to see if they were being stalked. He wished for his .416 Rigby, but a "solid" (full metal jacketed) .318 bullet might reach the brain of an Allosaurus, and Challenger and he had studied the skulls of some. They knew the hollow parts or where the bone was thin. Roxton had perfected the frontal brain shot on elephant, and knew the equivalent on the big theropods. That was all that might save them, if one came for them. A hit in the heart or other parts of their big bodies might eventually kill, but only a hit in the central nervous system would put one down in time to save the shooter. They were just so ...BIG...and so vital, possessing the tenacity to life common to most reptiles.

Finally sure that the Allosaurus was not following, they set up an ambush near the game path. Hidden in a bank of ferns, they could see animals approaching before being seen. Being smelled was another matter, and Roxton was glad that he had warned his mate to forego wearing cologne or perfume that day. And the slight breeze was right, blowing from the approach to them. They probably wouldn't be scented before he or Marguerite could send a bullet into a vital spot on a buck or a boar or an agouti.

He hoped that Ned would have good luck finding birds to shoot with his Winchester Model 12 shotgun. The American had hunted grouse and other game birds in New York, the upper part of that state. He was a good wing shot, but would shoot sitting birds if they needed meat badly enough. Usually, to save shotgun shells, they shot sitting birds with a Marlin .22 that another expedition had had among their equipment. Finn sometimes used it on tree squirrels, too, very like the big fox squirrels in North America. Ned said that the American pioneers often shot squirrels as a staple meat diet. They also took deer and bear and turkeys, but the squirrel was their main meat.

Roxton enjoyed talking with Ned, who was proud of his Irish-American heritage. John was on more equal terms with Challenger, but the reserved Malone would sometimes open up and tell interesting stories. He was a good, loyal friend, if not as drolly witty or as physically powerful as the tall scientist. And now that he was with Veronica, Ned seemed more relaxed and generally happy. The jungle girl seemed to complete him, to fulfill his dreams. Not that he wasn't still adamant about writing bestselling books!

Marguerite nudged her man, bringing his focus back to the present. "Do you hear that?" she whispered. "Isn't that something coming this way?"

And Roxton nodded, motioning to her to be quiet. He turned over the safety lever on his Mauser-actioned .318 rifle and prepared to take a quick shot. He saw Marguerite push the safety on her .303 forward, too. Then, he saw the snake!

A "yellow beard" (_Barba amarilla_), sometimes misnamed fer-de-lance, it was near his left leg, having slithered out from a hollow in an old dead tree. It would soon be within striking distance, and if they shot it or moved, whatever was coming down the game path would bolt. And there would go their dinners for the next few days...

Marguerite had not heard the snake, and she looked anxiously at the trail where something would appear in a moment. Then, she saw that Roxton was looking too far to the left to be watching the trail. He slowly shifted his weight, and shot up and back, calling urgently for Marguerite to roll to the right and move away.

As he pulled her up by the collar of her shirt - for which he had only one hand, the other grasping his rifle - she finally saw the cause of his alarm, and gasped loudly.

She staggered away as Roxton reached for a large rock and stoned the serpent. It reacted angrily and shot forward. Marguerite had seen John reach for the rock, and gone for her revolver, the .38 Special one that Finn had pressed on her. She tracked the snake in her sights as it came, and fired one shot, cocking the hammer first, for less disturbance to her aim.

The bullet smacked into the snake further back than intended but broke the spine, and cast the reptile about two feet away. Some of this was perhaps due to muscle contraction, and some directly due to bullet impact.

"Don't shoot again," ordered Roxton. Seeing the snake's plight, he drew the machete sheathed on his pack, and stepped in close. He beheaded it with one swift stroke.

Whatever had been approaching took off with a crash, and Roxton swore bitterly. "There goes our bloody dinner," he grumbled.

"At least, you're alive and well," Marguerite pointed out. "If I have you, I still have my heart intact. I can handle most things with that in place. Just let me get it down out of my throat."

Roxton set his rifle against a log and hugged her briefly. "Sorry, Darling. That was a bad time for a snake to show. I'll find a sharp stick and dig a hole to bury that nasty head. We'll leave the rest for scavengers. I'm not hungry enough to eat snake. It doesn't taste all that bad, but preparing it gives me the willies."

He buried the head as he said, while Marguerite shifted uneasily.

She remembered to swing out the cylinder of the Smith & Wesson and extract the fired brass cartridge case and reload with a fresh round. Closing the .38, she holstered it and shouldered her rifle. Roxton dusted off his hands, got his own rifle, and led the way back toward the Treehouse. He carried the empty picnic basket in his left hand. He had cleaned off the machete with some water from a canteen, and it was again sheathed on his back, with the pack that contained essentials in case they had to spend the night away from home.

XXX

Roxton was silent as he walked, other than uttering a swear word as he almost tripped over a tree root hidden under some fallen leaves. He was brooding, and Marguerite knew that he was angry. She felt guilt over them having lost their chance at shooting whatever game animal had probably been coming when they had had to avoid the _Barba Amarilla. (Bothrops atrox.)_

"All right," she sputtered, "I'm sorry. I just didn't know what else to do. Just say it: next time, you'll take Finn to hunt with you. Like you wish you had this time!"

Roxton stopped, turned to her with an amazed look on his face, and said, "What more could you have done? If Finn was there, I'd have been even more worried for her. She has bare legs. Better target for snakes and whatnot. I can't get her to wear a long skirt or trousers. She says she likes her looks in those little shorts." He shrugged. "But what has that to do with you?"

"I know that you feel that I let you down, John, and that she would somehow have saved the situation. Efficient, sexy little blonde Finny. Your preferred hunting pal!"

"Oh," said Roxton. "Is that what this is about? Marguerite, you're flaming jealous! And it isn't warranted. Finn is more like my little sister. Fun to do things with sometimes, but not who I share my bed with. She's fun to tease, and we have some common interests. But it is you who I adore. She's my best female friend, ever, I think. But 'friend' is the operative word. You are so much more! Why are you still so insecure? I have sworn my love to you until I am blue in the face, and you still worry about a girl just because she's my pal and she's blonde. That's ridiculous! She belongs to Challenger, my best friend. I have no intentions of betraying either you or him!"

Marguerite still fumed. "If she's just your little pal, why was she wiggling for you in the den last night? Is that your idea of a little sister?!"

Roxton hadn't realized that Marguerite had seen Finn showing him some new dance moves, asking him for a male opinion of whether Challenger might like them. He told her now about the reason for the impromptu show, and finally convinced her that Challenger was the real target of her erotic routine, not himself.

"But," Marguerite grumbled, "I know damned well that she wanted you to look, too, and get excited. Finn likes men to look at her. Ask Veronica: we girls have talked about that, and she agrees. Finny is an exhibitionist who loves men. Every time we dance for you fellows, she moves like a slut and looks to see who likes that best. And all three of you blokes sit there staring at her, like she's candy that you're eager to eat! Don't tell me that isn't true!"

Roxton admitted that this was probably so. Actually, he knew it was true. But they looked at all three girls. A major reason why they danced for the men was that every one of the ladies enjoyed being the center of male attention. Why was Marguerite singling out Finn? He asked her.

"Because she's so vain about it and loves it more than Vee and I do. Yes, that's possible. And, because she's your chosen companion when I don't hunt with you. And because she shares so many of your interests, and you feel obliged to be her charming teacher. You love being the all-powerful man who can teach little orphan Finn all about Britain and guns and animals and trains and cars, and I'm afraid to guess what else!"

"Marguerite, please believe me. Finn is my close friend and nothing more. Well, all right: we do tease and flirt a little, but if I made a serious move on her, she wouldn't go along. She'd tell me that it wasn't worth it to think how we'd feel when we had to face you and George. She admires you, Darling. She often talks about you and how close she feels to you. Like how both of you had many common experiences and feelings. Finn looks up to you. She isn't trying to steal your man. She thinks that her own man hung the stars. You know that. You're just feeling insecure because you had so little trust before you came here. But we're different. No one in that Treehouse would betray your faith in them. Least of all, me."

She fidgeted. "Oh, John, I know. And I basically believe you. But she's so cute and so innocent and so eager when she wants to know more. And she likes many of the same things that you do...I just have womanly misgivings about it."

Roxton set down the basket and his rifle and pulled his love to his chest. He kissed her and rubbed noses with her. "Darling, if it really bothers you that much, I'll stop hunting with Finn. Ned may join me, although he lacks her instincts and natural flair for it. George has his mind in the lab half the time, and he doesn't always have the stamina to go as far afield as I want some days. He's no spring chicken, even if Finn seems to ignore his age. The man is over 50 now, and that tells on him after a long hike in the jungle. I have to take it a little easy when he's with me. But if Finny bothers you that much, I'll hunt alone or take you or Veronica. Will that satisfy you?"

She was stunned to hear his offer. He must love her even more than she realized, for Marguerite knew very well that Roxton and Finn both looked forward to their outings. They were a well oiled machine that stalked together, on a level that eluded her. The damned Gun People! Orion and Diana! They seemed so made for each other. But it was certainly true that Finn also worshipped Challenger, and Marguerite somehow knew in her soul that John did love her. In just some things, this blonde bimbo from the future held more attraction for him than she herself did. And that was a painful thing to acknowledge.

"You'd really give up Finn, for my emotional security?" she asked.

Roxton grimaced. "If absolutely necessary, yes, I suppose that I will. She'll be crushed to hear it, but we need to be honest with her. She loves both of us, and if she knew that this bothered you so much..."

He looked lamely at her. "Marguerite is that what you want?"

She shook her head angrily. "Dammit, I don't know what I want! Except to know that she isn't going further than flirting with you and moving around to get you to look at her. She does that to Ned some, too, but probably not on the scale that she does with you, her soul mate in some ways. Besides, you ring a girl's chimes more than poor Ned does. You were created to make women wonder if they can remain faithful to their husbands. And probably fail! John, you are the ultimate man, and we girls can't help but react to that! I just wonder how much she's reacting that way."

"Not as much as you think. I told you: I'm like her big brother. She likes me and admires me, but she doesn't fuck me! Period and end of subject. So, there!" He looked angry now, and Marguerite wondered if she had damaged her relationship with him.

She knew that there was a closer bond between Finn and John than he was admitting. There was definite chemistry there. But did it extend into regions improper for an engaged man to go?

And if Marguerite accepted his offer to stop being alone with Finn, wouldn't it cost Marguerite Finn's friendship, too? For the truth was that although she feared Finn as a female competitor for her man, she also loved Finn as a friend. They had become very close after sharing a slave cell in that mountain, when Burton had kidnapped them. (See, "A Night in the Lost World".) And Finn and Challenger had been the first to rescue her and Roxton from the Tecamaya, in the dreaded city of Xochilenque. Without Finn's silent and deadly little crossbow to kill sentries, who knew what might have happened?!

Marguerite liked Finn, even loved her as a virtual family member. But she loved Roxton in a different way, in which she was unwilling to share him with another woman. And Finny was so...blonde... and so much a pal of John's that Marguerite didn't know what to think, let alone what to do...

This bothered her, for she was normally very sure of herself. But becoming emotionally vulnerable had exposed her to greater dreads than had come with her to this Plateau.

"Let me think about this," she finally said. "John, I love you, and I love Finny. She even told me the other day that I had been "promoted" from being first cousin to her and Veronica to being a full sister. She and Vee thought it was funny. They even baked that cake and had a sisterhood party over the occasion.

"I'd feel awful if I accused her of doing something that she hasn't done. But the potential is there. You and she are both physically and emotionally very attractive, and you have such strong common interests. You have bonded in a way that few men and few women ever have, without a physical relationship. And I know how much both of you like sex! It's a wonder that she hasn't given Challenger a heart attack with her abilities in that area."

Roxton laughed and pulled her closer, kissing her eyes. "Marguerite, George is tougher than you think. He doesn't discuss what he and Finny do in bed, but I know that he likes it. I don't doubt that she puts on a good show for him. But it doesn't happen with Finn and me. We're just exceptionally good friends who like some of the same things. Be very sure what you want before we say anything to her about this. She's a big part of my life, but I won't lose you to have her as a buddy. Maybe you could just come with us when I hunt with her?"

Marguerite shook her head. "Sometimes, yes. I enjoy that. But you and she need some privacy to be whatever it is that you are to each other. And I am going to have to learn to trust you. Mostly, I do. Hey! Listen!" She dropped her voice. "Is that something coming down the game trail on the right?"

He listened, and unslung his rifle. "Yes, I think so. Get behind those bushes and be quiet. This may be our last chance to make a kill before we have to call it a day." He slipped behind a tree with a fork in the trunk. From there, he could see what was coming, his own face obscured by foliage. He turned the safety of the .318 Westley Richards to "Off" and tried to think positively. They would need meat soon. And Marguerite would feel better if they didn't return empty-handed from a hunt where she was Roxton's only companion.

The faint rustle came again, and in a moment, a red brocket deer weighing about 90 pounds stepped into the clearing that they had just vacated.

It stopped short and sniffed, clearly getting their scent now. It was turning to flee when Roxton swung up his rifle and put a 250 grain softpoint bullet into its rib cage, the bullet angling through and exiting the far shoulder. The small deer dropped at once. It tried to rise, but collapsed again as Marguerite fired, her .303 bullet smacking through both lungs.

By the time that they walked over to it, the eyes were glazing in death. Both hunters reloaded, topping off their magazines. One never knew when their maximum firepower might be needed in this harsh world.

"Nice bit of work," announced Roxton. "My shot ruined some meat on that shoulder, but it beats maybe losing the kill. Your bullet just affected the lungs. No worthwhile meat there. Cover me, while I gralloch (field dress or gut) this wee stag, and we'll cut some limbs and make a travois and get it home. Hopefully, without some predator trying to take it from us!"

He drew his Bowie knife and soon had the little deer gutted, setting aside the offal for scavengers. Cleaning off his knife and hands, he drew the machete from its sheath on his pack and lopped two long bamboo shafts. He added the additional parts needed, tied the assembly together, and fastened the deer in place, as Marguerite stood, rifle ready, against all comers.

Fortunately, there were no challengers for their venison, and before long, they had the Treehouse in sight. They saw Veronica and Malone on the balcony, binoculars up and studying them.

Marguerite waved her hat and pointed to the deer. Malone waved back; pumping his arm in what Marguerite supposed was some sort of victory salute. She wasn't always sure what American gestures meant…

They continued toward home. After a few minutes, Marguerite said, "John, please don't say anything to Finn just yet. I need to think before I ruin some friendships, or worse."

He nodded and said, "Thank you for considering this carefully. I'll do what you want, when you decide. But don't take one of the best friendships that I've ever had, unless you feel that it is absolutely necessary to your emotional well being."

She agreed, and they touched hands briefly before dragging their burden home.

xxx

At the Treehouse, Malone and Finn rode the elevator down and helped to get the deer from the travois onto the elevator.

Finn gave them her impish wide grin and hugged both of the returning hunters. "Nice work, guys," she exclaimed. "I wondered if you two were just going to go somewhere and fool around together, if you know what I mean. But this is a really nice looking buck!"

Marguerite suggested that Finn and Roxton ride up with the deer. "Ned and I can wait until you send the elevator back for us," she offered.

Finn looked curiously from one of the couple to the other. "Is everything all right, Marguerite? I can wait with Ned if you want to go up with Johnny."

"No, go ahead," said the older woman. "I want to ask Ned about a surprise that I'm planning for Veronica. We'll be up in a moment."

But Finn thought that Marguerite gave her a careful, shrewd look as the elevator ascended. ..

Marguerite asked Ned what Veronica would like next if she sewed something for her. Ned fumbled for a moment and said that she could use a new party dress, preferably pale purple. And a few pink thongs (tanga knickers). "But is that why you really wanted to talk to me?"

She colored. "Am I that transparent? Look, this is in confidence, but do you think I'm stupid to trust Finn alone with John? Just in principle, I mean? I don't think she's made a play for him yet."

He looked cautiously at Roxton's mate. "Marguerite, are you serious? Finn loves you and John, and she'd never hurt you. At least, I really doubt it. She talks a lot about you when you're not there. She thinks you're very sophisticated, and wants you to tell her how to act ladylike when she reaches Britain. I know her pretty well, now that I'm her writing coach. She has real talent, but she wants you to polish her, otherwise. You're sort of her heroine. Vee, too, in a way, but in that role, it's mainly you. Vee has never been out of this jungle. Why do you ask?"

"Oh," said the brunette casually, "I just saw her practicing some dance moves on her pal 'Johnny' last night, and wondered what her motive was. They spend a lot of time alone together. So, you think they're just friends?"

Ned smiled and squeezed Marguerite's shoulder. "Quit worrying, Lady Roxton. John is stone cold in love with you. He thinks that Finny is his kid sister or something like that. She vamps him, all right, but she does that to me, too. Whichever guy she thinks will look, and make her day. Veronica is right: Finn likes male attention. But she is also a loyal friend, and I think she sees John as her best buddy. She dotes on Challenger. She's not going to step out on old George. That lucky guy! I suggested that Veronica might like to butter my bread and take care of me like Finn does George. She gave me an amused look, and told me that she might wait on me that way...if I broke a leg! Thanks. I'll pass on that. How Challenger gets her to do that is beyond me. Maybe it comes with the territory if you rescue young blondes from war torn cities in the future, and are a certified genius. And decide to divorce your longtime wife to marry a younger woman!" Ned looked disapproving. "But having said that, I guess I can see why he's taken up with Finn, and she's a hot honey. They do sort of compliment each other. I've held off on making any Svengali jokes, because they are so much in love. But this is going to be pretty hard on Jessie Challenger."

Marguerite looked carefully at Malone. "Ned, Xma'Klee told me that he senses that Jessie died of some terrible disease last winter, in London. He says that George and Finn will marry and have two children, one within a year or so, here on the Plateau."

"Well, he must be right, if his crystal ball is in tune," grumbled Malone. "That guy thinks he's so smart! He's a damned witch doctor." (Xma'Klee was the Paramount Shaman of All the Zanga.)

"A rather prescient one, from what I've seen," said Marguerite crisply. "Well, we'll see. Goodness knows, if Finny doesn't get pregnant, it just isn't meant to be, or George's little birth control pills didn't stop working when she goes off of them... They certainly get enough exposure to pregnancy!"

"Can't complain, myself," Malone commented. "Which reminds me: next time you see our door still shut in the morning, leave Veronica and me alone, will you? We were pretty involved in something today."

Marguerite nodded. "Sorry. I just couldn't resist teasing you, once I figured out what you two were doing, more or less."

Ned snorted in aggravation. "Just show us some consideration, okay? And don't lose any sleep over Finn. She's a flirt, but she isn't likely to try to steal Roxton from you. She couldn't stand to hurt you, or him. Or, goodness knows, her beloved scientist. Veronica would kick her out of the Treehouse if she did that, and she probably knows it."

"Thanks, Ned. I'm probably just being an anxious woman," said Marguerite.

"At least, you're being a human one," he razzed. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Marguerite rolled her eyes, jabbed Ned in the ribs with an elbow, and they boarded the elevator.

xxx

Finn helped Roxton to skin and hang the kill while Marguerite showered and changed clothes. Challenger, alerted by Finn, came up and admired the deer, commenting that he had just invented a new, improved tanning solution to better preserve the hides of such animals.

"That will look good on the wall, if no one needs the hide for a purse or pouch, or something," he added.

"I want to shoot one of those Axis deer that we've just discovered living here," exclaimed Finn. "The spotted hides are so pretty, and Johnny says that their meat is maybe the best of any deer, except for the really big ones, like moose or elk."

"They are rather spectacular," agreed her man. "I just wish that I could account for an Indian deer being on a plateau in South America! But we have seen some strange things here."

"Speaking of strange things, " Finn said, "Marguerite gave me a funny look when we went up in the elevator. What was that all about?"

Roxton tried for a tactful, if truthful, answer. "Oh, we made some noise when avoiding a snake that came out of a hollow tree. Marguerite thinks you'd have been quieter, or something, and that maybe you should have been hunting with me instead of her. Or, rather, she is afraid that she isn't as good in the jungle as you are. But I made enough noise to scare off whatever was coming down the game path when it happened. It wasn't really her fault. She just feels that you'd have done better, or that I might have rather had you along instead of her. She'll get over it. I think it's partly her anti- blonde syndrome working, and that you like hunting more than she does."

"Uh, oh," said Finn. "Is she jealous? I don't want to get in trouble with her. I like her, and you two are perfect for each other."

"It will probably blow over," said Roxton. "She's just having a blondes vs. brunettes day, I hope."

"Perhaps if I talk with her...," offered Challenger.

"Not just yet, please, George. I think this is something that her own mind will solve for her. But don't say that I told you anything. Not just yet, anyway. Let's see how this develops. You two are the best friends that I have in this world, and she knows it. I think she'll calm down. You know Marguerite. She's just unsure of herself in some areas, and she hates thinking that another woman might be better at something than she is."

XXX

Marguerite Krux ran soapy hands over her delectable body in the shower. She hurried, not knowing how much water there might be. She had decided to postpone her hair washing until tomorrow, when she and John would have plenty of time to sit on the veranda and let him dry her hair leisurely in the tropical sun, the heat of its rays warming her as much as her man's hands would, as he dried her sable tresses.

She stepped from the shower, wrapped her long robe around her, and ran upstairs to dress.

She pulled several outfits from her closet, wanting to select something that would please Roxton, whom she knew that she had upset with her comments about Finn. Finn was, after all, one of his closest friends ever, and his adviser when he needed a female viewpoint other than her own.

She quivered slightly as she chose something likely to sooth and arouse him, while upstaging Nicole Finnegan. Even if Finny wasn't really after John, and Marguerite was now having severe misgivings about her earlier fears... Finn had greeted her so warmly and genuinely that Marguerite wondered what had inspired her to worry. Finn was her own fast friend, too. Dare she risk that friendship, as well as the one that John cherished more than he would admit? And if she offended Finn, George Challenger, whom Marguerite admired enormously, would give her the cold shoulder for days, perhaps forever. Finn was his woman and his soul mate in all ways, and he truly meant it when he hoisted her onto that silly, sentimental pedestal in their room. Finn stood very high in Challenger's estimation!

Marguerite remembered the wrath that she had triggered in Finn the last time that she had insulted Challenger. The occasion that she had told Roxton about in the jungle that next day. (See, "Challenger's Birthday.") The same sort of wrath (or just cold withdrawal from her) would come her way from Finn's man if she insulted Finn!

And, Finn and Veronica were also close pals. The original two Treehouse "sisters", until they let me into their little clique as their token brunette, she smiled. I don't want to endanger that friendship, either. But I am going to give Miss Finnegan-Challenger a thought or two tonight. I am going to dress so that 'Johnny' will have eyes only for me, and when we get up to our room, I am going to show him in bed that I am better there than Finn can possibly be. She may be better in the jungle, and she likes to play with guns, but I can play with other cards, which she can't deal as well. I hope!

With this in mind, Marguerite chose a black dress that had shoulder straps just wide enough to allow wearing a bra with it. She then selected a black push-up demi-bra with her best hand sewn lace trim. That tight, smooth dress barely reached halfway down her thighs. Her best black sandals came next, with as high a heel as she had, given the basic impracticality of high heels here, or making them.

Finally, she wore her emerald necklace on a gold chain, a gift from Zanga chieftain Jacoba, for teaching his youngest wife how to belly dance. Evidently, this had much impressed the grumpy Indian monarch, and he had sent his paramount shaman and that wife to Marguerite with this fabulous jewel. Earrings like Finn's own gold loop ones, which she knew very well that all three men liked to ogle... That would outplay the wench at her own blonde game!

There! She applied makeup and lipstick and was ready to go down to dinner when Roxton opened the door to their room. He stood, dumfounded, until it crossed his mind that there was a reason for this display of his woman at her finest. He hoped that this was good news, not the reverse. He decided to avoid mentioning that this style of dress was from Finn's time, as was the lingerie that he was sure she had on. Usually, Marguerite went for less tightly fitted, longer dresses. Something was going on here, and he feared to tread there.

"My, don't YOU look nice!" he managed. "Good thing that I washed off the deer blood and hair before I came up to change shirts. Don't tell me that I have to put on my tux. Dinner is just about ready. Veronica told me to hurry, and to shag your fancy arse down there in time to join us at the outset. I just didn't realize how fancy you were going to be! Marguerite, I hardly know what to say. You look utterly heavenly!"

"I was hoping for something more devilish," she winked.

"Well, you managed THAT!" he exclaimed. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Because I wanted to feel good about myself, and to show Miss Finnegan that I can be formidable elsewhere, however good she is at sneaking around in the jungle with her cherished firearms and snares!"

Roxton touched her face lightly, and then kissed her. "Marguerite, if you are going to look like this the evening after you see Finn dancing for me, I am going to take her aside later and tell her to come up with some new moves! And I will ask Ned's permission to make a similar request of Veronica! If you'll look like this whenever you see them writhing for me, I'll pay them to do it. Darling, you just about take my breath away. I knew that you are a beautiful woman, but this...is just ...quite special." He held her tenderly at the waist, then letting his fingers caress her neck, playing with her ears, toying with the golden loop earrings.

"Stop mussing my lipstick and get a decent shirt on, before Ned gets sent up here to collect us," Marguerite urged. But she was glowing. "John? Do I really look rather nice?"

"Hell, no," he stated. "You look bloody wonderful! I'm going to have to concentrate to keep my mind on dinner, and Finn is going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear about our hunt. As soon as dessert and a minimum of conversation is over, you are coming back up here with me and putting out, to atone for getting me this excited. Finny and Vee are going to be so jealous tonight! Did you warn them that you were going to dress this way?"

"No," she smiled wickedly. "I thought I'd let it be my little surprise. Especially for Finn! Maybe this will get her out of my system, about what we discussed earlier.

"I love her almost as much as you do, and I'm having trouble doubting her. And if I ask her not to hunt with you, it will cause everyone here to get mad at me and tell me that I'm overreacting. So, I decided to show you what you'll lose if you let her get to you with her cute little wiggles and those black shorts that barely cover her underwear. Overall, this may be the best solution to my problem."

"You, Marguerite, never had any such problem, except in your suspicious mind. But I have to admit, I love your solution. Although it gives ME a problem, which you are honor bound to repair later tonight." He lifted her hand to his swollen crotch.

"This is all your fault," he teased, "and you are going to do something about it, right after dinner!"

She laughed. "I so swear! Oh, gad! I hope that Vee doesn't give me a lecture for this. But I hope that both of those blonde bimbos feel a little less spectacular tonight. Here, get this shirt on." And she tossed him a clean one.

As they came downstairs, Finn was sitting down next to Challenger, having just returned from pouring his coffee. She had brought out a platter of meat from an ocellated turkey, one whose ancestors had been brought from Central America by the Tecamaya tribe.

Veronica had sent her mate in with a large bowl of mashed sweet potatoes (closely resembling yams), and she was herself just exiting the kitchen with a similar bowl of green beans. A bottle of Rhine wine from Rauenthal stood open, chilled, a treat to celebrate the successful hunt. Besides, Roxton had noted that it needed to be drunk soon, or it would decline. The late harvest (Spatlese) grade wine had held well, but was now at its peak. Even the cool limestone cavern that Veronica's parents had stored their wine in wouldn't preserve it forever. A wine glass stood at each place setting, with their water glasses.

"Oh, good, you're here," said Veronica. "I was just getting ready to send out a search party for you two. My gosh, Marguerite! What's the occasion!?" She stopped in her tracks, staring at her Treehouse sister.

"What?" asked Marguerite innocently, pretending that she wasn't dressed up.

"What's the big idea?" demanded Malone. "Not that you look as good as Veronica does in her everyday outfit."

"Ned, hush!" laughed his woman. "Marguerite, what on Earth is the deal here?"

"No big deal," said the brunette member of their sisterhood. "I just felt like sprucing up after the truly superb shot that I made on that deer. I thought Roxton might be tired and need some encouragement to paw me after dinner."

"Well, I daresay that he'll feel encouraged," commented Challenger, looking carefully at Marguerite. "You certainly look quite impressive."

But he sounded as if he had reservations, and he and Finn gave one another odd looks, as if they sensed that something was happening here that wasn't being declared. Finn had an awful feeling of misgiving that this was somehow about her. She looked uneasy, something that didn't escape Marguerite's notice.

"Something wrong, Finn?" she asked. "You look a little troubled."

"No," replied the slim blonde, "I'm fine, Marguerite. Look, is everything okay between you and Johnny? "

"Why, certainly. Lord Roxton and I are just as happy as two alligators in Louisiana, as Ned might say, aren't we, 'Johnny'?"

Roxton refused to be drawn into whatever nasty scheme Marguerite might be planning to embarrass him or Finn. He acted as if her original explanation was the real one. "Marguerite, it was a good shot, at that, but don't rub it in. You've made better ones. Finn, she just wanted to tease me, I think, and see if she could get me all revved up and wanting her instead of coming down to dinner."

"I don't believe that," interjected Veronica. "Women usually dress up that way mainly to impress or to intimidate other women. She was coming down here to let us see her that way, not you, John. Marguerite, give!"

"I have!" insisted Miss Krux. "I just felt like dressing for dinner, and tormenting Roxton here, to get him to notice me more."

"Kruxlahoo, John pays more attention to you than most men pay to their mates. I'm really lucky to have Ned's affection as much as I do, but you are hardly ignored by your man. You need a better explanation than that. "Veronica looked unbelievingly at Marguerite.

"Can we just pass the turkey and the vegetables, please?" asked Ned. "Marguerite's convoluted motives will become apparent when she wants them to, I'm sure." Ned was tired of Marguerite's drama.

"All right!" snapped Marguerite. "I was just feeling inferior to Finn in the jungle today, and thought that maybe she should have gone with John instead of me, and we might not have lost a shot at some animal that we scared off! I wanted to feel better about myself here than I did on the trail. Is that all right with everyone? Please, for crying out loud?! And I wanted to remind John that I clean up pretty well, and that I can dance better than SOMEONE who was gyrating for him in the den last night!"

"Uh, oh," said Finn. "That would be me, I bet. I wanted to see what he thought of a new dance that I figured out before I showed George. I thought that I might try those steps the next time we girls dance here. "

"Well, you should," said Challenger, happy to defend his lady. "You later showed me, and I think you move superbly that way. But what is this about performing first for John?" He looked curiously at her.

Finn reddened. "I didn't want to try that new routine on you, Genius, until I had another male opinion first. So, I showed Johnny, to see if he thought I looked good, or if he could suggest some improvements before you saw it. I was self-conscious about it, and he was good enough to look and tell me what he thought.

""I want you to see it, too, Marguerite, and tell me if you can see where I might do something better. You're the best dancer. Would you mind watching after dinner? It won't take long, maybe two minutes?"

"Why didn't you ask me last night, instead of John?" demanded the brunette lady of their number.

"Because you aren't a guy. I wanted a male opinion, remember? And you weren't downstairs, either. At least, I didn't realize that you were. I was going to ask you later, like I just did. What's the big deal, anyway? Johnny didn't mind looking. Oh. Wait: is that the issue? Are you mad that I asked him?"

Marguerite tried to control her rising anger. "Just a wee bit, darling. You looked like you were trying to appeal to his, ah, prurient interest. Which is easily aroused, I might add. Why would I NOT be a little perturbed by that?"

"This turkey is delicious," observed Ned Malone. "Would anyone like more brown gravy?"

And, so dinner went. Marguerite said little more, but was sullen, and Finn was subdued. Challenger reached for her hand and squeezed it, and she smiled, but was clearly concerned.

As Marguerite went after coffee in the kitchen, Finn sprang from her chair, took Challenger's cup as the astonished scientist was just about to reach for it, and also went to the kitchen. Roxton and Challenger exchanged uneasy glances.

Finn cornered Marguerite as she poured, and asked," Did I really screw up or what? You're seething about something, and I want to be sure that it isn't my fault."

Marguerite looked triumphantly at her. "So, you think you might have screwed up, Finnykins? Look, girl: worms wiggle. They have to. They do that. Blondes don't have to wiggle. Especially not in front of other women's' fiancés."

"Uh, oh: do you feel threatened by that, Marguerite? I wasn't after Johnny. He's more like a big brother or best pal. I just wanted to get his opinion about my new moves. And I really want you to take a look, too, before I try them the next time we dance for the guys. You're our best dancer. I'm good; I turn guys' heads. But they REALLY gawk at you. I want to know how close I can get to what you do. But if you don't want me to ask Johnny to look on his own, I won't do that any more. I don't want to risk our friendship. I mean yours and mine. That's really special to me."

She looked earnestly into Marguerite's eyes, and the brunette realized that Finn was quite sincere. She had no doubt been after Roxton's admiring approval, but probably had not been trying for more. Marguerite sighed dramatically and decided to forgive her younger friend.

"All right, Finn. But no more private wiggling sessions. At least, not where I can see them and suffer for it! I've no doubt that you can manage to put on your little shows in the jungle while you and your best man friend are allegedly out hunting, but keep it within reason. And remember, it isn't fair to John when you go to the zoo and tease the animals. Am I making sense?"

"Sure, Marguerite. I just didn't know that it bothered you. Well, not much. And I guess that I do like knowing that I can get guys to look. I'm sort of insecure, and sex was the only thing that I had going for me that got me attention. You know, in New Amazonia. But if it bothers you this much, I won't do that any more. Honest, I swear! I never meant to hurt you." She looked pleadingly at her friend, and Marguerite's heart melted. She knew some of what Finn had endured before coming to live in this treehouse, and remembered her own insecurities.

"Very well, you're off the hook, this time. But as long as I dressed for it, I am going to go out there and vamp Roxton a bit. Play along with it, or at least, don't laugh. I want to know that I can get his motor running more than usual when I want to. I may even adopt your technique of buttering his bread, as if he wasn't completely capable of that. Like George Challenger is. I think you spoil George, but I have to admit, I rather like the way that it gets him looking at you. John hasn't got a pedestal for me in our room, but maybe he can think of some other way to tell me that he treasures me."

"Okay, Marguerite," Finn said, flashing her radiant smile. "I'm so sorry that I upset you. I just wanted a little ego boost, and to know that I could get John to look at me like I was special. And I really did want him to tell me how I could stimulate George better with that routine. He liked it, by the way. George, I mean. By the way he looked at me, he must have thought it was like, _tres cool_, you know?"

Marguerite stopped herself from laughing at Finn's expression, _tres cool._ The young girl came up with some interesting combinations of words, but she was funny, and she usually meant well. One thing about Finn, you knew where you stood with her. Marguerite reminded herself of that, thinking that Finn must really care about this friendship, or she wouldn't be trying to mend fences. And she was a good friend to have. With luck, the Roxtons and the Challengers would remain friends long after they escaped this Plateau.

"Thanks for forgiving me, even if I didn't mean to hurt you, Marguerite," said Finn. She set Challenger's cup on the counter and hugged Marguerite before the other woman could react. Then, Marguerite hugged her back, intensely, warmly, both women glad that they had settled this quarrel so amiably.

When they returned to the table, coffee cups full, they were smiling. Roxton and Challenger looked at one another and each breathed a sigh of relief.

A few moments later, Marguerite rose to take Roxton's plate away and brought him dessert. This was something that he normally went after, himself, and he looked impressed, if puzzled.

Finn caught Marguerite's eye and grinned.

Then, she stood, kissed Challenger and went after his dessert. It was blackberry pie, one of his favorites. Especially when served by his favorite lab assistant...

XXX

After dinner, the Roxtons retired to their room, where Marguerite thoroughly reminded her future spouse that she had talents that few women equaled. These talents did not involve baking blackberry pies...But Roxton was very pleased, nonetheless!

The other couples lingered over an extra cup of coffee and conversation, then they, too, drifted off to bed.

We can guess what the Malones found to do, it being much like the way in which they had begun the day, without Marguerite Krux to interrupt them at a critical moment!

The Challengers enjoyed an hour of similar activity, Finn once again impressing her man with her talent and enthusiasm in this realm. She told him that her dancing skills carried over to her techniques in bed. Certainly, her sense of rhythm did…

Finally, they walked out onto their balcony, lights extinguished except for a candle. They had binoculars, and scanned the heavens, commenting on various constellations and other asterisms. Finn was thrilled to locate _Coma Berenices,_ Challenger having taught her the legend behind this faint, beautiful constellation. He loaned her his big binocular, the Zeiss 10X50, which gathered more light than her 8X30 of the same famous German brand. It was heavier, and he usually carried a binocular like hers on the trail. But in camp or at home, the added brightness of the larger instrument gave better views of faint astronomical objects. Finn had already resolved to buy one of these larger binoculars for herself when they reached Britain, if they ever did. She had grown to love amateur astronomy, and she and her mate often lay on blankets on journeys and studied the stars, talking softly between themselves.

"Here," she said, passing Challenger the larger binocular. "You use that one. I can't hang it around my neck when I'm naked. The size and weight interfere with my boobies. That's something that I try to reserve for you to do." She laughed, a sound full of delight and pleasure at what they had just done and were doing now. Both activities meant a lot to the young blonde refugee from a horrible future. Challenger hung the 10X50 glass from his neck and caressed her hair, playing with her ears the way that she loved so much. She had taken off her gold loop earrings, and rejoiced in the way that his fingertips felt on her ear lobes.

She leaned into him as he raised the binocular and scanned the heavens. He loved the Southern Cross, but longed for the more familiar stars of his northern home, in England. But clear skies were more common here in remote, primitive Brazil. And this was where he had met this marvelous, surprisingly complex young woman who had come to mean so much to him.

"I see an owl!" he exclaimed and pointed out the faint outline of the predatory bird as it glided silently past, to land in the next tree.

In a few minutes, he pleaded weariness and the need to rise early to complete his medical experiment. They went in, locking the door. Even up here in the huge tree, some predators could arrive to cause harm, if one wasn't careful. Ned had shot a big boa constrictor only two weeks before...in the living room!

How much do you need me in the lab tomorrow?" she wanted to know. "Johnny and I are going to clean the guns they fired today and some of the spares. Do you want us to clean your .450 and your extra Colt .45?"

"Yes, thank you, Darling. But is it wise to do that so soon after Marguerite has indicated her feelings about how much time you spend with her man?"

"I think we got that sorted out. Anyway, I'm going to ask her to join us. She may, for awhile. Then, she'll probably go bug Vee and drink coffee with her in the dining room like she always does. She gets bored if Johnny and I talk shop about things that she isn't especially into. But I am going to ask her about selling the Xochilenque treasure. I want to buy some good guns, another binocular or two, and some other stuff without going overboard. I want to have a good idea what my share is worth. We have to buy a house, and you may have a big bill from the divorce lawyers if Jessie gets totally mad at us.

"George, I hate that part," she continued. "But I can't not marry you. You mean the sun and the stars to me. Am I really worth the hassle of a divorce to you? Marguerite isn't the only broad here who wonders how much she's loved." She looked anxiously at him in the darkness.

He effortlessly pulled her over between his legs, and stretched out her arms as far as they would go. "There," he said. "I love you that much! More than Ned could say, in his finest hour at the typewriter. But lets' not discuss Jessie just now. It will trouble me too much before I sleep. This Plateau has enough sources of unease that I don't want to add that to my possible nightmares."

Finn squirmed around to lie in his arms, propped on an elbow. She kissed his chest and said, "You help me with my nightmares, and they're lots worse than you've had, I bet. I'll help you with those. Just tell Dr. Finnykins if you need to talk. Okay, Genius?"

"Ummm," he conceded, hugging her. "Darling, do get Marguerite to watch your new dance. I don't want her to think you were faking having her critique you. The Roxtons are our best friends, but Marguerite being who and what she is, we need to nurture that friendship carefully." He chuckled. "Tell her that if what you did still bothers her, I'll be happy to watch her dance for me in return. You girls will be even, and John and I will have had a fine show!"

"You wish!" she laughed, digging him in the ribs with her elbow. ""What the hell? Maybe I will suggest that. Would you really like to see her? I bet I can tweak her vanity to where she'll try to outdo me, and you can watch. I don't care. I know you love me more. I'm less temperamental, for one thing. And I am, ta da!...a genuine blonde!" She snickered, snuggling close to him, getting ready to sleep.

Challenger pulled the sheet over them, the heavier covers not being needed on this relatively warm night. They had already checked their pistols and flashlights, and set the alarm clock.

He pulled Finn to him, as she settled into the "spoons" position that she favored when they went to sleep. "Were you really concerned how I feel about you?" he asked. "I'll not tell you, young lady. You have quite enough pride as it is!" But he kissed her neck, and stroked her hair so that she knew full well how much he cared.

Finn held his hand across her breast and snuggled her butt into him and sighed. In six minutes, she fell asleep. Her last thought was how to befriend Marguerite tomorrow, so that her little dance would indeed be forgiven. It had probably been unwise, but she had enjoyed Roxton's reaction...

XXX

At breakfast, Marguerite was only mildly irritated at Finn's request to help Roxton clean guns. For one thing, she didn't want to have to get her own hands greasy with nitro powder solvent and oil! And, she had been invited to join the Gun People. So, it wasn't as if Finn was trying to be sneaky.

"Oh, very well," she agreed. "As long as you don't strip for Roxton and start wiggling for him again, after I go to have coffee with Vee and discuss more civilized and feminine matters."

"What civilized and feminine matters?" wondered the future Mrs. Ned Malone.

"I'll think of something, after these two bore me enough trying to decide whether the Brenneke Torpedo Ideal bullet is better than John Rigby's patented bullets," Marguerite grinned. "Everything that I shoot falls down, if I hit it right, so I don't care too much about whose ammunition I buy, as long as it fits my guns."

Roxton was shocked. "I'm glad that you remember the names of some of the better bullets, Marguerite, but the design and integrity of the bullets is important, especially on larger animals. You've been lucky, and you do shoot Rigby's bullets in your .275.

"Finn knows now to use British or German ammunition in her Mannlicher instead of the Austrian loads, although that rifle is Austrian, and excellent." Roxton was warming up to his subject. "Alas, some of their ammunition doesn't retain a firm grip on the bullets. You don't need a cartridge coming apart in the rifle's magazine! I think they need to apply a better crimp to the bullets in the manufacturing process. I knew several men in Africa who had occasional problems with that Austrian 6.5mm ammunition. One was killed by an elephant, although his error was using softnosed bullets against an animal that large. A .6.5mm is pretty small to take on an elephant with, anyway."

"Can you make me some more of those hollow pointed lead bullets for my .38?" asked Finn. "They seem to hit harder than the round nosed ones."

Marguerite rolled her eyes. "Oh, lord! They're already at it! And we haven't even finished breakfast!"

Veronica laughed. "We can discuss sewing some new clothes, Marguerite. And I want us to make some more jewelry, too. I'll tell you all about it later." She laughed at Marguerite's reaction to the Gun Peoples' enthusiasm for their shared interest.

"What I need now is more coffee," said Challenger.

He started to rise, but Finn took his cup and sat him down again. "My job, Genius. Even when we have servants later in England, I'm going to do this for you sometimes, just so you know how much I love you."

"Awwww, wasn't that sweet!" razzed Marguerite. But she took Roxton's cup, too, and went with Finn to the kitchen.

Roxton and Challenger looked at each other blankly. Were their women up to some new argument?

But all went well, with Finn and Marguerite, then Veronica, all going to the kitchen. The men looked apprehensive, and then relaxed when all three girls began laughing. Marguerite's voice rose in telling a coarse joke. The women laughed again, and came out smiling, bearing dishes of eggs, tapir ham, and venison chops from a deer shot several days before.

Breakfast actually went well and was a relaxed meal. The men looked at one another in visible relief.

Challenger announced that he needed an assistant for about an hour. Then, he could complete his experiment on his own.

"Finn is cleaning rifles, so I had rather hoped that I might entice Marguerite to join me," he declared. "It's been awhile since we had some time together, and we can catch up on our recent doings. Did I hear that you ladies are planning to make some jewelry soon?"

Marguerite nodded, her mouth full of meat. Veronica agreed that they had such plans.

"Well, then, I want to discuss making something that a certain young huntress might like to have. I can provide the basic gold and jewels from my share of that Xochilenque treasure, but I have a design in mind that will be a suitable Christmas present for Finn. This is December, and I need to be thinking of that. If you ladies will join me in the lab while the Gun People play with their favorite toys up here, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll stay with John and Finn, if that's okay." Ned looked at Veronica. "I need to clean my Springfield, anyway."

"Sure, Honey," she agreed. "We need to discuss your presents too, so just settle in and talk ballistics and bullets and elephant hunting, to your heart's content." She smiled, leaned over, and tickled Ned.

And so, the day began much better than some had feared that it might. If Marguerite harbored any further ire against Finn, she was ladylike enough to hide it for their common good.

The guns finally cleaned and put away, Finn drifted down to the lab, where she helped Challenger to finish his work for the day. They cleaned the lab, and then Finn joined Veronica in making lunch while Challenger fiddled with the refrigeration system, tweaking it for full output. Roxton helped him until lunch was served.

At lunch, the Challengers and the Malones decided to visit their limestone cavern to get several bottles of wine. They would fish in the nearby river before getting the wine.

John and Marguerite looked meaningfully at one another. They would have the Treehouse to themselves for the afternoon!

By one PM, the foursome who were going for an excursion was ready, and went down in the elevator. They took fishing rods and reels, with a box of lures known to be effective in local waters.

Finn and Veronica carried the rods and tackle boxes, plus food for an overnight stay, if needed. Challenger and Malone had their rifles; Challenger's the double-barreled .450 H&H that he favored when they might encounter dinosaurs. Ned took his M-1903 Springfield, converted into a fine hunting rifle by the famous gunsmithing firm of Griffin and Howe in New York.

Veronica carried her bow and wore a quiver of arrows in lieu of a pack. The other three all had packs of survival gear in case they got stranded out on the trail.

Finn had reluctantly foregone carrying either of her rifles, the better to manage her and Challenger's rods and tackle boxes. She wore her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, with a hunting knife that Roxton had made for her and her trusty Swiss Army utility pocketknife was in its leather pouch on her gun belt. Finn never left the Treehouse without wearing that belt, and her .38 was usually within reach, even when at home. Her pack, like the others, contained emergency items and spare ammunition for her and Challenger's guns and a blanket, an open mesh hammock, and a mosquito net.

Challenger's pack was largely empty, to bring back several bottles from the cavern that was their wine cellar.

"Why do you think that Marguerite and Johnny stayed behind?" wondered Finn. "I hope it wasn't because Marguerite may still be mad at me over that little dance that I did." She looked worried. "I don't want to get Johnny in trouble with her. He was just trying to help when I asked him to critique my new moves."

Veronica snorted. "Finnykins, you were after his appreciative looks, and you know it. You get off on that! And Marguerite knows damned well that he enjoyed looking. Did you at least leave on your bra and panties when you did that squirming for him? If you stripped all the way, I really don't blame Marguerite for being mad. I'm surprised that she didn't come out and start yelling at both of you; maybe start throwing things at you!" She looked shrewdly at her friend.

"Hey!" protested Finn. "I'll have you know that I had on my usual shorts and top. I took off my boots, but we girls wear sandals at home most of the time. I didn't undress until I did it for George later that night. He got the full nudie show. But he deserves my best efforts." She took her man's arm and snuggled next to him as they walked.

Veronica persisted. "Well, keep in mind that Marguerite is half afraid that she'll wake up some morning to find that John has realized that he's too good for her."

"Maybe he IS too good for her. If you ask me, he is." Ned looked out the corner of his eye to see the effect that this would have on his companions. His occasional spats with the brunette heiress had begun even before they had reached the Plateau, and still occurred, if much less often than they once had.

"Ned!" exclaimed his mate. "What an awful thing to say! She's insecure because of her past, and he's the best chance that she has of a worthwhile future. And she loves him as much or more than I love you, or Finny cares for George. She's just too proud to let on how deeply she cares, unless she feels threatened. Then, she gets mad if she thinks that Finn or I are vamping Finny's best buddy, John Roxton. Do you really blame her?"

"I don't," said a solemn Challenger. "Darling, I do wish that you'd refrain from provoking her that way again. I care quite a lot for Marguerite, and I wouldn't like her dancing for me if it would upset you. You must see her position."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "I won't do it again. I promised her. And you're right: I'd be uneasy if she performed for you. She's a better dancer than I am, too. But I take better care of you than she does of Johnny. Poor guy, he deserves a woman who'll treat him like a god. Like I treat you, Genius! Right?" She grinned, the smile lighting up her face and making Challenger smile and ruffle her hair before playing briefly and affectionately with her ear.

"Hey, Lovebirds," cautioned Veronica. "There's a boa constrictor draped over that limb about 30 feet ahead of us. We'd better detour off the trail a little."

And so they continued, paying attention to the dangers of the jungle as they talked quietly among themselves.

XXX

But in fact, Marguerite was not nursing a grudge against her blonde friend with the tendency to crave male attention. She had largely put aside Finn's dance, knowing that it was probably harmless, and something that she and Roxton would likely do again, where Marguerite couldn't see it.

She didn't like that - few women would - but she had decided to write it it off as Finn's emotional need for male validation, and to John's basic masculine urge to look if a hot babe gyrated for his approval. If they didn't let it get out of hand, Marguerite would grudgingly tolerate that sort of thing. IF Finn left her clothes on...Some things would be going too far. But Marguerite basically trusted both Finn and Roxton, and had decided to let the matter slide, for now.

Her decision to remain in the Treehouse was far from wanting to chide Roxton for his visual dalliance with the younger blonde girl.

Instead, she had plans of her own for Lord Roxton. And she was going to remind him with her body and with her soft-spoken words that he'd never have a better lover than she, herself, was. Apart from wanting to convince him that she was a better choice for him than other women, Marguerite genuinely wanted to please him because she loved him. It gratified her to know how happy she could make him, when she chose.

This filled her with inner warmth, and she glowed internally when she saw Roxton looking tenderly at her. She should have known that looking was all that he would have done with Finn. On the other hand, Marguerite wanted him to do much more for her. In turn, she would please her lord so much that he'd think he'd died and entered Paradise.

"Come here, John" she purred. "You don't know it yet, but you are about to think that you've entered a sensual paradise. If I don't make you feel that way, make me start over. But I'm not too worried that you'll want to do that. I think I'll get this paradise thing right the first time!"

"Paradise, eh?" He chuckled. "What exactly do you have in mind, Marguerite?"

"Come here, and I'll show you," she promised, arching her back to make her breasts strain at the material of her blouse as he took her body in his powerful arms.

They were soon embracing on the large leather couch in the living room. Marguerite was glad that she had not worn her boots. Usually, like the other Treehouse women, she wore sandals at home, finding them cooler and more comfortable.

But her skirt was a knee-length one, cut slightly tighter than her longer ones. It was more restrictive of her leg movement, and she resolved to sew some that were fuller, letting her run, if need be.

Roxton was frustrated in trying to get his hand up it as far as they wanted, and she soon unbuttoned it, rising slightly to let John slip it off. That would, after all, have been the fate of even her wider skirts, she thought, and giggled.

He looked inquiringly at her, and she told him about the skirt.

"You should have Veronica make you an outfit like hers," he teased. "It comes off readily, and puts the goods on display all of the time. Ned seems not to mind at all!"

"John!" she exclaimed. a little shocked. "I think not. The knee-length ones are short enough. I don't have quite the exhibitionist tendency of the blondes. Especially, of your little hunting companion. Oh, all right! Don't look at me that way. I won't bring her up again today. But I like to look like a lady, normally. It fools people who don't really know me." She grinned wickedly.

Roxton laughed. "I know you, and always have, in that sense. But I also consider you a fine lady, even when your face is in orgasm, which I hope to see shortly. But not too shortly. I mean to warm you fully before I take you. I love watching you blush and squirm and pant when you're in heat, Madam. It does wonderful things for my male ego."

She blushed and murmured, "Lord Roxton! Your precious male ego is quite healthy enough without any assistance from me! I try to hide it that I think you're a studly god, as Veronica put it earlier this week when she was flirting with Ned. Who knows what may go to your proud head? Look, I've almost finished unbuttoning this blouse. Let me sit up and hand it to you."

He took the blouse and tossed it on a nearby coffee table. "Vee thinks that her Neddy is a 'studly god'? Bit short for a god isn't he?"

Marguerite laughed. "I joked about that, and she almost bit my head off. I've learned not to tease my 'sisters' about their men. Whether it's the colossus of science or the Famous Reporter, their women are defensive of them. Vee told me later, alone, that Ned needs to hear things like that. She loves him, but knows that he's self conscious about his height. So she tells him sweet somethings to boost his self image. And Ned is a nice bloke. I feel really mean when I zing him at times. I just can't help myself. He's so easy to tease! So sensitive, although being with Veronica has made him less touchy about some things. He feels better about himself for having her in his bed, I daresay. Many a man with no better taste than to like blondes would love to fuck our darling hostess!

"Look," she continued, "do you want to prove your dexterity and flick my bra open with your one-handed trick, or shall I stand and take it off for you?"

"Oh, stand," he replied. "I can sit here and get my boots off while you do that. Two-handed, please, with one knee bent a little. The utter image of feminine grace and desirability! You have no idea how wonderful you look doing that."

Marguerite laughed. "Roxton, how do you know what I know? I may stand in front of the mirror and practice this, seeing just which subtle gestures make me look most erotic. Not that I'd probably bother doing that, just to please a man." She stuck out her tongue playfully.

"You said yourself, Marguerite, that I am not a man, but a god. Not that I want to seem at all blasphemous. I mean, in the sense of the Greek gods. Which do I remind you of, other than Orion?

She often razzed him and Finn, calling the Treehouse hunters Orion and Diana. The Gun People. Her John and that slip of a blonde bimbo from the future. Diana, Goddess of the Hunt. The sexy babe in the black shorts who shared her man's fascination for fine guns and the thrill of the chase. The formerly illiterate lab assistant to the Greatest Scientist of All Time. The girl who knew just how to stretch and move whenever a man was looking. The wench who waited hand and foot on Challenger, with the other men noticing and wondering why their own women weren't as attentive to them, bless their egotististic male hearts! The blonde girl whose name she swore to herself that she wasn't going to mention in a critical way until she had that covert dance performance out of recent memory. Her close friend Finnykins, wiggler par excellence and general charmer of men...

"Other than Orion?" she repeated. "Oh, Zeus, who else? You are, after all, MY man. Why should I settle for less than the King of the Gods?"

"Why do you need the King of the Gods?" he wondered, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm already an Englishman, and an Earl, at that! Why step down to being some ancient dago deity?"

She shook her head in resigned mirth. "A very modest English Earl, too, I see. John, you know what I mean. I do see you as being rather like a Grecian god."

'So, if I'm Zeus, are you Venus, Goddess of Love?"

"No," she admitted. "I see Veronica in that role. I mean look at the girl! Or, she could play Helen of Troy.

He looked at her, pulled her over to him, and tossed the bra that she handed him onto the coffee table. He began playing with her body, having her place her hands on her head to give him full access to everything that he wanted to reach, front and back. He walked around her, close, hands active.

Marguerite moaned softly as his skilled touch began to ignite her passions. He ran fingers along her waist, tingling her flesh with each tender motion. He sought her nipples, and they expanded under his caresses, and then her lips, until she felt so moist that she knew that she could refuse him nothing. Not that she wanted to.

He slipped a finger beneath the elastic leg of her white bikini panties and felt her. "Bit damp, are we, my lady?" he teased.

"Oh, John," she moaned. "I'm no wetter than the average waterfall. Maybe river rapids! And you're making it worse! Do that some more. Take those off, and get inside me."

He removed the panties, and admired the hand sewn lace trim as she waited impatiently for him to quit clowning and get busy with her.

Roxton finished undressing and laid his things on the coffee table before rolling Marguerite under him. He reclined on the sofa. Their lips locked as he played with all of her controls until she cried out so loudly that even the birds and monkeys in the jungle outside their windows erupted in startled protest.

Marguerite raised her legs and clamped them around her lover's waist, holding on as he primed her for full male victory over womanly defenses that she never cared to offer.

Some 20 minutes later, her howl of ecstasy as she reached the peak of her sexual Olympus drew even more calls from their wild neighbors. She flushed, thinking, A howler monkey has nothing on me! I am SO glad that our friends are fishing a mile from here just now. I know that scream would get right through the wall of our room. Ned would never let me hear the end of it!

Then she thought no more, her mental processes on par with the sounds that she made. Roxton thought that they were wild, primeval, utterly female cries, as her body rocked beneath his in paroxysms of passion, her lungs screaming his name and some noises that he knew were not human words. Marguerite was beyond words, using sounds and convulsions to convey her reaction to what he was doing to her. But those noises and her helpless writhing were among the most effective means of communication between humans that he had ever experienced.

So much for the way of a man with a maid...

XXX

After a time, she came down from the heights to which his attentions had propelled her, and they talked and flirted until he was ready for her again.

He held Marguerite in his arms as they cuddled, whispering tender sentiments to one another. Finally, Roxton said, "Darling, do you want a shower? I checked, and the reservoir is full. We can wash one another's backs. You've gotten me all sweaty. Of course, just thinking about you will do that to me..." He waggled his eyelbrows at her and Marguerite broke out laughing and hugged him fiercely.

In the shower, they continued to cuddle and fondle each other as they bathed.

Then, he dried her and she dried him, and they went out to the balcony with tea and cookies (biscuits, to UK readers) as she sat on a towel before him while he dried her hair.

The sun was warm on them, and their hearts were full. And the afternoon was theirs. "We should do this more often," opined the Earl.

"How about tonight, if I swear not to be so vocal?" asked his woman. "I'll just grit my teeth and pound that mattress up and down with my bum until I get off on what you're doing and on belonging to you, alone. That means so very much to me, John: to belong to you, to know that I am your choice as a bride, even if I am getting a little old for it, and have a past as checkered as a chess board."

"As a knight, I love riding that chess board, Marguerite. That's us, Paladin and his princess." Her lover lifted Marguerite's drying hair and kissed her on the neck. The glow that flooded through her warmed her internally as much as the sun warmed her back. She knew that she must look rosy, and hoped that he approved, for he had done it to her.

They discussed Christmas presents, those that they could make or barter for among the Zanga craftsmen at their market displays. The Zanga mall, Finn called this area of the village. She had had to explain what shopping malls were, although she had seen them only in old DVD movies. What Zoth had done to New Amazonia and the rest of the world in her time was a horrid thing to contemplate.

"John," she finally asked. "If we tarry much longer, I will be getting on in years to bear your children. I'm 33 now! If we cannot see a way off of this accursed Plateau within a year or so, perhaps you'd better breed me here. What do you think?"

He sobered, then nodded. "Finn and George are thinking the same thing."

"Well, Finny is just 23, and I'm, uh, no longer 23! Perhaps we should go first. What do you think of that?"

"You and Finn decide. Whoever gets pregnant first can have the first child, I suppose. The other lady will go back onto George's little birth control pills and wait until the infant of the other couple is a year old, and doing well. Then, it's their turn. Veronica and Ned will probably agree. But we should have two nubile women in the Treehouse while the other is with child. That gives us a better chance of survival and of making a home for our children. And of providing beautiful women to dance for us lads!" He waggled his eyebrows again, and she laughed before reaching for his hand and holding it to her breast as she stood before him.

"You chaps do enjoy those dances, don't you? I'll ask Assai and Sa'eera to teach me the Zanga fertility dances. And we'll borrow that grotesque totem thing that Xma'Klee gave the Challengers, to make Finny conceive. He said that all she needs to do is to stand nude under the full moon, hold it to her womb, mumble those words that he taught her, and then set it on the nightstand by their bed while George takes her three times in one night, all doggy style. They need to do this for all nights of the full moon, for three months. That certainly sounds like something that a man would think of, the position, I mean!"

"George told me about that," Roxton revealed. "But he said that the position is the one most likely to produce pregnancy, because of the way the human female is constructed. She's soon in a family way, if conditions are right. Don't know about the full moon bit, or the rest. But George said that the position is one that will get most men to comply with that part of Xma'Klee's pregnancy prescription!" He chuckled, a little embarrassed at the subject.

He carefully avoided mentioning that Finn had also told him this with relish, enjoying his male discomfort in discussing such matters. She had been amused as she described the position, and told him that it was one of her favorites, so Challenger wouldn't have any trouble talking her into doing it that way.

Her mate had had no idea that Finn had told Roxton this when it came up later in a conversation between the men. Challenger had also been amused, pointing out that the "mumbo jumbo" of the Zanga witch doctor contributed precisely nothing to becoming pregnant except "atmosphere and hope" . He had been excited at the prospect of becoming a father in his 50's, though, and admitted that the basic technique was sound, physically. He had briefly explained why, and Roxton had to agree that Xma'Klee's pregnancy prescription was likely fairly effective, if only for anatomical reasons.

Roxton said now that he had rather hoped to "make an honest woman" of Marguerite before "bedding her for effect."

She smiled. "I am rather looking forward to becoming Lady Roxton well before we get into the baby issue," she assured him.

"Perhaps this will be the year in which we find a route home," she said wistfully, wanting very much to marry John at Avebury and have him carry her across the threshold of his mansion before they had to concern themselves with nannies and late night feedings of children. But she had increasingly been aware of the need to proceed with plans for a family if they saw no way home soon.

They embraced, kissed, and went in to dress.

XXX

That night, she was quiet during dinner, thinking about what she and John had discussed. But she held his hand under the table, and once looked directly at Veronica and Ned, as if daring them to say anything when she buttered a slice of bread and passed it to John. And she leaned low over him for a kiss as she poured his coffee, instead of waiting on Ned or Veronica to bring the pot.

In his turn, Roxton seemed to gaze more often than usual into Marguerite's eyes, and he held her hand above the table several times. Usually, when they clasped hands, it was below the table, trying not to be seen by their friends.

Finn noticed, and looked to be sure that Challenger had. They exchanged a meaningful look, and she took his hand, too.

When dessert was served, Finn followed Marguerite into the kitchen and waved Veronica back to the table when she started to follow. Bemused, their lovely hostess sat, trying to figure out what was happening between her sisters.

"Marguerite, you and Johnny look so sweet together tonight," Finn began.

"And?" queried the brunette heiress. She arched an eyebrow.

"Well, it looks really romantic," the younger girl gushed. "'Way cool! Uh, look, Marguerite? Can I ask you something? Are you still mad at me for dancing for Johnny? That's been eating at me a lot, and I want to beg your forgiveness again if it still bothers you. I sort of screwed up then, I guess. But I swear, I had no intention of trying to steal your man! He wouldn't want me, anyway, if he knew about you. That guy has it bad for you, lady! And it wouldn't be worth it to risk losing you as a friend if I made a play for him."

"Wouldn't it?" asked Marguerite, a bit crossly. "I think John is worth quite a lot of trouble. And I mean to start going to more trouble to take care of him. Maybe not as much as you spoil George, but he is going to start feeling catered to. And it won't end when we reach Avebury and have servants! Anyway, you're forgiven. Just don't do your little bump and grind routines to enhance your feminine ego where I can see it. And leave your clothes on, and don't get too shameless in your moves. All right, Finn? It bothers me. I love John, and I mean to limit what other women, especially desirable blonde ones younger than I am, do to entice him!"

"So, like, I'm totally forgiven?" Finn's face glowed and she stepped over and embraced Marguerite. "Thanks, Sis! I love you so much! Marguerite, I've been almost sick about this. You mean as much to me as Johnny does, just in a different way."

"I do?" said a surprised Marguerite. She hugged Finn back and the women realized just how much they cared for one another.

"Look, we'd better get this pie cut and get pieces of it out to our guys, huh?" said Finn, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Good idea," agreed Marguerite, and she looked for a knife and the pie saucers.

XXX

Marguerite's eyes had been a little wet, too, and Roxton noticed as she served his pie and coffee.

Later, in their room, he asked what Finn had said to her to make her cry. "If Finny has hurt you again, I will tell George and suggest that he have a word with her. She knows better than to antagonize you. The two of you should be great friends, after all that you've been through together!"

"John, she made me cry a little, but they're happy tears. We made up over that issue of her dancing for you. Can you imagine that she begged my forgiveness, and told me that I mean as much to her as you do? That made me really joyous, for I know how much you mean to her. That was what scared me to begin with!

Roxton was thoughtful as he watched Marguerite slip off her long khaki skirt. He recalled the time when Finn had suggested that he spank Marguerite after the brunette beauty had been disrespectful and shouting angrily at Roxton for several days some months before. (See, "Challenger's Birthday".)

Finn had suggested this while she and Roxton had been alone, hunting. And when Roxton had voiced concern that this might not be the way to tame Marguerite and make her admit that she belonged to him now, and was subject to his discipline, as was customary for wives in those days, Finn had grinned and said that if it backfired on Roxton, he could always take it out on Finn for suggesting that, by putting her over his lap and spanking HER the next time they were alone. He colored now, remembering that and how the idea had caused him to have an erection, which he was afraid that Finn had noticed.

Because he tried to think of Finn as a little sister or just really good female friend, it embarrassed and troubled him that he also was always very aware of her as a desirable woman, one who sometimes flirted with him and moved suggestively to get his reaction. She laughed when she succeeded in embarrassing him, or getting him to tease her back. But neither meant any real harm, both being devoted to their own mates.

But the thought now of Finn being spanked made him tumescent, which he knew that Marguerite would notice. He had just removed his trousers, and she was now standing against him, her hands roving lightly over his bare back as she pressed her naked breasts against his powerful chest. Fortunately, Marguerite was herself the cause of much of his arousal, and she would think that she was the cause of all of it. He was very happy that she could not read his mind and guess that Finn had originated that erection before he stood, and made it harder. No matter: Marguerite was going to receive the benefit of it, and Roxton would try to forgive himself, for he really did love her. And he would never do anything too intimate with Finn, risking losing Marguerite, or incurring the wrath of George Challenger, his best friend.

Still, his Finn fantasy caused him some guilt, and he was especially careful to do everything to Marguerite that he knew that she liked, causing her to gasp as he pulled her onto the bed and proceeded to show her why women all over Britain had once sought the attentions of Lord John Roxton, and whispered to their friends about how skilled a lover he was.

XXX

In the room just next door, Finn stood in front of the mirror above their dresser, unhooking her bra as she watched Challenger watching her.

She laid the black bra on the dresser, and turned to him clad only in a pair of string-sided matching panties, and her earrings and sandals.

Challenger took her in his arms and asked what had happened in the kitchen earlier. "Was Marguerite mean to you? You had been crying. I could tell. So had she. But you both seemed happy, and were smiling at each other. I'm guessing that you ladies fully resolved your differences over that little dance that you performed for John?" He lifted his eyebrows in inquiry.

She nodded, her face pressed against his chest. She looked up and said, "Genius, it was the best thing in the world, other than being with you, I guess. Nothing beats that! But I told Marguerite how sorry I was that I'd hurt her, and promised her that I was just teasing Johnny and getting his opinion of my act before I danced for you. She accepted that, and we made up. I think she really forgave me this time. I'm so glad! I love Marguerite. She may be my best friend, even a little more than Vee, in some ways!"

Challenger smiled, picked up Finn in his strong arms and walked over to the wooden pedestal in one corner of their room. She knew where they were going, and he heard her giggle.

He set her on the pedestal, which brought her face somewhat above his own. He had to rise up only a little to reach her lips when he wanted to kiss her there.

He played now with his fingers around her waist and across her breasts as he leaned up and kissed her. "Darling, I am so proud of you! Many women would have been too proud to do what you did, and salvage a fine friendship! John and Marguerite are our best friends in the world, probably even more than Veronica and Ned. Thank you for making peace with her. I could tell that she was troubled by that dance. Such things can easily build, and become a major resentment. You are truly a wonderful woman and surely the finest mate that a man has ever had! I am fortunate to have you."

She ruffled his hair. "You need another haircut, Genius. Tomorrow afternoon? I can do it on the balcony, right after lunch. Then, I want to go swimming, and fish on the way back. With you, I mean, not with the girls. If you don't want to get in the water with me, you can watch me from the bank. Make sure that nothing eats your favorite barber, huh?" She grinned that wonderful smile that always melted his heart and made it beat faster.

"Very well," he agreed, scratching lightly at her abdomen through the panties, making little trickles of human electricity run through her belly. She shivered again, reached down and kissed him.

"As it happens, I have other plans tonight for that lovely barber," he told her. "Starting with you doing that new dance for me while I sit on the bed and undress. Then, I'll show you more of what I have in mind. I think you'll enjoy it, probably considerably. Just try not to breathe so hard that I think you're having an asthma attack!"

They laughed. Finn did not have asthma, but early in their intimate relationship, she had indeed breathed so heavily when aroused that Challenger had become alarmed, never having had a woman so passionate in all of his years. She had told him in a husky voice that all was fine, and not to stop what he had been doing. Later, that episode had become a standing joke between the couple.

"Carry me over to the bed, Lover," she asked, playing with his hair and ears.

"Brazen hussy!" he teased, spanking her playfully on her desirable bottom. He lifted her as she squealed and made his way to their bed, her legs wrapped around his waist. They kissed as they went.

And that is the last that we will hear of the Challengers in this story, for what they did after should remain between them, lest the reader become embarrassed to be privy to such intimate detail! Suffice it to say that the eminent scientist knew the female human body well, and he used that knowledge to have his woman squirming happily in his arms and sleeping closely against him when their activities had concluded...

XXX

The Roxtons lay quietly together later, their limbs entwined, kissing softly as they murmured to one another in the darkness.

"Want to hunt again tomorrow or the next day?" he asked. "There are times when only you will do, however fond I am of Finny and her saucy banter. She really is good in the jungle, and I'll teach you some of her techniques. You're already a fine shot, and you'll soon know other things that will let you feel a part of that wild world, one of the predators at home in it, enjoying its beauty and its glory as you seek out prey in it. Marguerite, at its best, hunting is a wonderful immersion into nature. I do so love it! And I hope that you will come to crave it as much as I do. Or, Finn! You don't have to be as much into guns as she is, to come alive in that primeval forest and sense its power and its vastness and its fecund delights to the senses. And sometimes, I very much want you and you alone with me as I enjoy that world." He rubbed noses with her, his hand playing down her back and around her rear and down her legs.

She moved closer, arching her pelvis to maximize contact with his nether regions. She felt the expected rising of his interest, but moved only slowly and lightly against it, wanting to arouse him, but still wind down their intense activity of the past two hours. She needed sleep, and knew that he did, also. But what he had done to her! She quivered in his arms as she remembered having to muffle her responses as she had become even more orgasmic than she had that afternoon, when she had thought that she would die of excitement and fulfillment.

"Oh, John, I do love you so very much," she whispered, and kissed him again. "I will hunt with you. But I'm sure that you'll be relieved to know that I won't mind - too much- that you usually go with little blonde Finn, your pet buddy and huntress. You two work well together, and each of you adds so much to the other's enjoyment of life. I just want to know for certain that I am really the only woman whom you love in, well, a certain way."

"I showed you that physically, Marguerite. You've had my best efforts, I promise you, and you seemed to enjoy them thoroughly! Shall I tell you how much I care, also?" He nuzzled her neck below her right ear.

"By all means, darling John! Never stop telling me. I love to hear it. Have you heard the saying that when it comes to love, men like to do it, or to look at their partners, and women like to hear it?"

"Then hear it, you shall, Marguerite, for there is nothing in this world that means more to me than having you grasp and fully believe how dear you are to me. No other woman whom I've laid eyes on, let alone hands on, has pleased me as you do."

And she soon felt full, hearing his praises of her body and of her spirit and of how much he sought to have both in his life. Before they slept, he hugged her and told her that he wished that he could pull her right into him, that they might be one for all time.

Hugging Finn earlier and resolving their differences had felt wonderful. But this was different, and it was the best hug of all for Marguerite!

The End


End file.
